


oh, brave new world, that has such people in it

by janie_tangerine



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Acting, Bastardizing Shakespeare, Communication Failure, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Electricity, Erotic Electrostimulation, Eventual Fluff, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone Needs A Hug, Explicit Sexual Content, Fix-It, Idiots in Love, M/M, Making Up, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Social Media, Steve Rogers & Thor Friendship, The Author Regrets Everything, Theatre, Twitter, What Was I Thinking?, heimdall is done with these idiots tbqh, stephen strange's patented trolling is somewhere in here, thor's not doing too great in the beginning/middle but it gets better is2g
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 19:26:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16582589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: in which, post-IW, our heroes are all unable to leave Wakanda due to their status as either criminals or unregistered aliens. Loki is put in charge of directing a play starring Asgardians, Guardians and Avengers to be streamed all over the world in order to get public opinion on their side. If while he navigates directingThe Tempestwith a cast that’s far from professional, he also manages to reconnect with his brother who has been behaving strangely since everyone Thanos killed was brought back to life, then it’s just going to be good news. Of course, that implies this whole PR-through-theater business works out, but he’s going to try and be optimist about this, and patience if Shakespeare’s most likely rolling in his grave.





	oh, brave new world, that has such people in it

**Author's Note:**

> .. I have basically zero excuses for this except that after IW I wanted to write something serious for these two idiots, I signed up going like 'hey great I have a chance to go for it I'm totally coming up with something exceedingly serious', then I read a tumblr post about how Loki was actually doing extra good ruling by staging plays and went like, 'WELL THAT'S TOTALLY A PLOT'. This happened. Idek what the hell it is and I'd like to preventively apologize for the sheer level of crack thrown in here but I hope it's somewhat amusing. I'm not apologizing to Shakespeare just because I have a feeling he'd have appreciated this staging. I have no idea guys have this crack with hopefully decent characterization, I'll leave it here.
> 
> Also, endless thanks to the Loki fan extraordinaire friend who shall not be named unless she wants to who a) helped me decide on which play to settle, b) helped me out with the casting as in who would Loki cast as whom and to ao3 user totemundtabu for looking this over thanks you've both been a gem <3 also nothing belongs to me here, the title is from the play in question, aaaand I'll saunter vaguely downwards now.
> 
> Also I'm currently waiting on the art because there was pinch hitting going on but as I won't be able to post it in the next few days I figured I'd put the fic on meanwhile and add it later but hopefully it'll be here soon :D

 

 “Let me guess, no good news today either?” Steve asks the moment he meets T’Challa’s dejected face.

“I am afraid not,” T’Challa replies, sounding as honestly sorry about it as he has since this entire charade started.

The rest of the room either groans or curses or sighs, and Steve can’t fucking believe that with all it took to defeat Thanos _and_ bring their friends and the Asgardians back to life _and_ fix things (he’s not going to relish the time travel, _ever_ ), just when he had figured that maybe it was time to retire for good and see the world along with Bucky and so on, it turns out he actually _can’t leave_.

Or better: _none_ of them can leave because after things _sort of_ went back to normal, it turned out that the US government first and _everyone else’s_ after didn’t look with a kind eye the prospect of having to house a few thousand Asgardians anywhere — _aliens from another planet, can you believe that we should take them in after the threat Earth just escaped_?? — nor to the prospect of pardoning _him_ or Sam or Nat or Bucky or… well, _anyone_ who had been involved in the Sokovia agreements years ago. To make things worse, now Rhodey is also on the wrong side because he was on _their_ side, Bruce was wanted by Ross and the US government before the Avengers and he is wanted still _now_ , Tony has been staying here because while he _could_ technically go back he’s not going to leave either of them behind and he knows that the moment he sets foot on American soil he could be brought in for questioning or aiding and abetting known criminals or whatever, and — _right_ , there’s also the matter of Peter Quill and his merry band of planetary outlaws. Quill has been gone from the US for _years_ and he was declared dead so there’s _that_ , and then there’s the conspiracy theorists who have been speculating about the guy having been abducted by aliens since the seventies, and he comes with… Gamora and Drax who couldn’t really pass for human at first sight, a talking raccoon, a talking _tree_ and Nebula, and no government wants them on their grounds either. Ah, and that’s Peter Parker, who refuses to go back if Tony isn’t. To top it all off, Stephen Strange is also grounded here because of course his Sanctorum is in New York and the US government doesn’t want him either.

So, they’ve been stuck in Wakanda for some three months now, and T’Challa is valiantly trying to convince all the diplomatic parties he’s been talking to that they aren’t a menace or anything and that after what happened with Thanos _certainly_ bygones could be bygones.

It hasn’t worked.

On top of that, he’s sure that if Thor actually joined him to fight for his case, there’d be a chance that at least the Asgardians might leave, but Thor —

Thor hasn’t really been up for _diplomacy_ , lately. Thor hasn’t been up for much lately, period, and no one is hurrying to welcome people that bring _Loki_ with, given that no one has forgotten the Chitauri.

“Shit,” Steve sighs. “I suppose there is no way my presence would help any.”

“Hearing what your General Ross had to say,” Shuri says from behind T’Challa, coming into the room, “your presence would have the exact opposite effect, Captain. Don’t ask me how I know, I was tapping into the video feed.”

“Of course you did,” T’Challa sighs fondly. “Anyway, I think there is _one_ thing I have understood from today’s… _negotiations_ , shall we say.”

“Then please share with the class, Your Majesty,” Tony says from the couch where he’s sitting on, tinkering with _something_ that Steve is sure should go into an improvement for Rhodey’s braces. “Because I would like to go back to R&R at some point before I die of old age.”

“You _could_ —” Rhodey and Bruce say at once.

“Yeah, _no_. So?”

“So, I think that… the general feeling I surmised is that the problem with the Asgardians and our, distinguished friends over there —”

“Groot, you heard? He called us _distinguished_ ,” Rocket gloats.

“— Is that your government and most others do not know if they can trust _aliens_ who would not know _our_ customs, whatever it is they mean with it. Not counting the whole question of Loki’s alliances.”

“Sounds like your usual bullshit,” Bruce groans. “Like, the kind that gets sprouted the moment you don’t want _foreigners_ in your precious country.”

“Fair enough,” T’Challa agrees, “but that was the issue at hand with the _Asgardians_. Of course, people might trust _Thor_ , but not his brother, not after —”

“New York,” Steve groans. Fair enough. He wouldn’t have trusted him either, after New York, but — he _did_ pull more than his weight, and he _has_ talked to Thor and the other Asgardians. He’s fairly sure Loki’s nowhere near dangerous right now. Well, right _now_ surely not, but that’s another problem entirely.

“Yes. And as far as you are concerned, the United States are adamant on not letting you in after the Sokovia accords, not if you don’t give up —”

“No,” Steve says at once.

“What I thought,” T’Challa smiles. “Well, that would be valid for both you, Mr. Wilson, Mrs. Romanoff, Mrs. Maximoff, Vision and everyone else on your side. And anyone who supports you, automatically is against _them_ , so I am afraid we are still at an impasse.”

“Well, fuck,” Tony says, and Steve can’t even disagree with that.

“And there is _nothing_ they suggested we could do, short of giving ourselves up?”

“No. Two days for now there will be another negotiation. I should be talking to the UN, maybe we can accomplish something more, but I highly doubt it.”

Steve doesn’t echo Tony’s _well, fuck_ just because he’s too tired.

For a moment, there’s complete silence in the room, not that Steve had expected anything more or less.

“If I had known, I’d have asked Pepper to do some PR from the beginning. If she’d talk to me,” Tony mutters, and then —

“Stark, that actually _brilliant_ ,” Peter Quill says, suddenly standing up from his chair.

“Wait, _what_?” Tony asks, not sounding too convinced.

“No, it was. I mean, that’s what we need. Good PR! I mean, hey, you’ve all seen us, right?” He gestures at his friends behind him. “Back before we secured that one Infinity Stone, we came from a fairly terrible background. I mean, we ended up in fucking prison together, actually that was where we met.”

“I’d have never thought I’d think fondly on it,” Gamora says.

“Well, so what, we save the galaxy, people are _aware_ of that, we get some nice rep and guess what, we’ve got the Nova Corps fixing up ships for us and giving us jobs once in a while and we’re on the galaxy’s good side, done. They just had to see that we didn’t look trustworthy but we actually were!”

“Genius,” Natasha tells him, “we _did_ save the galaxy, too, but that’s exactly why we’re stuck here.”

“Well, _fine_ , but that’s because in between disappearing and coming back to life people haven’t seen you doing it and that dumb US government hasn’t either. You have to show them _now_.”

“Okay, okay,” Tony says, “let’s say I approve of good PR, because I know good PR always saves your ass, but how are we going to do that from here?”

Quill deflates a bit, at that. “Well, now you’re asking too much. I mean, I don’t know, as far as the Asgardians go I think that anything that would show people they’re as… human as it goes, mostly, would work, but you can’t ask me to find you the solution. If you missed the memo, I spent most of my life in between _space pirates_ , what do I know?”

“Other than _Footloose_?” Tony smirks, but it’s not mocking. “That said, it’s not a bad idea. Some publicity stint could help, but what would be a publicity stint?”

Shuri shrugs. “Well, whatever you come up with, we can definitely stream all over the world. Nothing hard at all.”

“I don’t think doing good deeds around Wakanda might be a good idea, especially since I think at this point _you_ are doing a good deed by letting all of us stay,” Bruce says, and then — “Wait a moment.”

“What?” Steve asks, suddenly hopeful.

“He said that they have to show that they’re _human_ or something and that _we_ have to show others that we aren’t a threat, and _she_ said we can stream it, _right_?”

“Yes,” Shuri agrees. “Do you have an idea?”

Bruce shakes his head and shrugs, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I don’t know, but — from what Thor told me while we were, uh, in outer space, you know, Loki spent most of his time as king in Asgard… staging plays.”

“ _Doing what_?” Tony asks.

“Staging plays. I think he wrote them, too, but what I mean is — maybe since people need to know _he_ is not a threat, we could convince him to leave his self-imposed isolation to do it. I mean, let’s say he directs _and_ chooses some play that’s — like, _ours_ , not Asgardian, and it stars some of us, some of _them_ , and some Wakandans too to show that we’re all in this together and we are really… well, as harmless as it goes.”

Steve thinks on it — it’s _not_ a bad idea.

Right, Thor is currently — _working things out_ , he said last time Steve talked to him a few days ago, but he doesn’t look great and he’s not doing good whatsoever. Loki, from the moment he realized he was a liability to the _negotiations,_ has pretty much never left his room except to help himself to some alcohol in the kitchens (the maids assured them he’s always very polite when asking for wine and he apparently thinks Wakandian wine is fairly close to the _real deal_ , or whatever it was they had in Asgard). That would be — a way to drag _him_ out, at least. And — the idea has merit. It honestly has. If anything, they wouldn’t be so fucking bored out of their minds.

“That’s — not bad,” he says. “Maybe some of us should go talk to him and see if he’s amenable. Is _everyone else_ amenable?”

“As long as I can call dibs on the sets,” Tony says at once, “I _really_ don’t want to act. Sorry. Not my thing these days.”

Everyone else seems either fine with the proposal or skeptical at most, which — well, better than the contrary, Steve supposes.

“Then I guess I’ll talk with him now,” he says. “Bruce, you think you might want to come with since _you_ had the idea?”

“Sure,” Bruce says, fixing his hair and standing up. “Maybe we could pick Heimdall up along the way —”

“I think he and Thor said they were going to _spar_.”

“ _Again_?” Bruce asks. “Always in that place where they almost leveled down a small hill the first time they tried?”

“Yes,” Steve sighs. “Hopefully they won’t level down another.”

Bruce seems fairly worried.

So is Steve, honestly.

 

***

 

So: Loki had _not_ been expecting visitors.

If he had —

No, if he had he probably _still_ would have opened the door only wearing a Wakandian green robe that he found in the wardrobe in the room he was given and holding his perfectly good glass of wine — these Midgardians _do_ know their alcohol, he can admit as much. If anything because looking at Steve Rogers’s pale face blushing a color similar to the aforementioned bright red wine’s turned out to be the only amusement he’s had in the last, what, four weeks? Maybe. Banner isn’t as fazed, but Loki figures that they’ve seen… enough of each other in the past months for him to be fazed.

“Captain, Dr. Banner,” he asks, “to what do I owe the honor?”

“Er,” Rogers says, “it’s — a long thing, probably. Can we —”

“Please, make yourselves at home,” he grins, stepping back. All right, his room is _kind of a mess_ and there are clothes and books thrown everywhere and he should make a few empty bottles disappear, but honestly, the last few months have been _bad_ and being dead was nothing he relished and — he’ll make sense of that, just not now. Neither man makes him notice that, though.

“So, what brings you to my humble abode?” He asks, not knowing what to expect.

“That we need your help,” Banner says, and Loki almost drops the glass.

“You need my _help_?”

“Staging a play,” Rogers finishes, and —

 _What_?

“You want _me_ to stage a play?” Loki asks, not quite getting what they’re aiming at.

“Listen,” Bruce says, “Thor told me you used to do that on Asgard. And — thing is, we’re going to be stuck here until people on Earth think _your_ people are a menace or the same as Thanos or that _you_ might pull another Chitauri invasion on us again.”

“I wouldn’t —” He starts, and that’s exactly why he avoided being involved in any kind of negotiation going on. After Thanos, he’s — honestly too tired to try to convince people he doesn’t have nefarious intentions anymore and the fact that Thor is _not_ cooperating at all hasn’t helped, either.

“We know,” Rogers says, “but _they_ don’t. And they don’t want _us_ either, nor Quill or his friends.”

“So we thought — _I_ thought, I guess, that in order to at least make people see that none of us are _that_ terrible, we could all star in it. Some of us, some of _you_ , the Wakandans. If you pick it and direct it, they might start seeing you as something else than a threat, and we could stream it, and you know… if you all came off as _the same as us_ , and people started being vocal about wanting your people freed online and stuff, maybe it’d help putting this situation out of the dumb stall it’s in.”

“What he said,” Rogers adds. “And really, it’s not like _any_ of us around here would even know how to start _directing a play_ or any such thing.”

Loki stares at the both of them, not refilling his glass as he had been planning to.

That — that was not what he had thought they’d come to ask.

At first, it seems like some poorly put together joke, but then he realizes that — it’s actually _not a bad idea_. He figures that Banner must be famous for being smart for a reason. Anyhow, even if it doesn’t work, and Loki has no idea about how _people on the internet_ might help them out, maybe it would at least interrupt the boredom he’s ended up in since Thanos died _when_ he wasn’t busy trying to get to talk to his idiot of a brother who is of course _avoiding_ him for reasons Loki cannot even begin to guess. He thinks he should like _finally_ doing something he honestly enjoys, never mind that the prospect of _directing_ Banner, Rogers and their merry band of friends is certainly amusing.

“Let’s say that I accept,” he says. “What were you thinking?”

Rogers looks relieved at first, and then like someone who hadn’t thought this far when it comes to the plan, so he sends Banner a panicked look.

“Well,” he says, “I hadn’t really thought as far as something _specific_ , but I figured, something — famous. Or I mean, by some famous human writer, or Midgardian, however you like, since the point is that you have to live here so people have to see us — and you — in a familiar setting. Something that would allow a mix of people starring — like, some of us, some of _you_ , some Wakandians, some of the Guardians. Tony has already said he’ll work on the sets.”

“Some of you are efficient,” Loki smirks. “Well, _well_ , I think I can work with it.”

“Can you?” Rogers asks. “Because really, this situation isn’t going to budge if we don’t do _something_ , and T’Challa already said he’s more than amenable to let us rehearse in the city’s theater, it’s really nice — I went once with Bucky while he was doing negotiations. Anyone who doesn’t act will be happy to help out with the rest.”

Loki nods, considering it. He _could_ do that, sure, and the requests shouldn’t be too hard to meet — he has _great_ knowledge of Midgardian theater, same as he has great knowledge of theater from most places around the Nine Realms, and he could go as far as acting in it if needed, but he doubts there will be any urgency, given how many people he has to choose from. It can’t be too difficult to find a suitable Midgardian play. He glances at the empty glasses on his windowsill and shakes his head, deciding that _anything_ would be better than that constant, tiresome boredom, and maybe if it helped with getting Thor to _reason_ , whatever’s gone into his head, that would help even further.

He nods. “Very well,” he says, “I will do it. I will need some time to come up with an acceptable choice and to think of the casting, so I think you should tell your friends to meet up tomorrow at this hour in your usual room. I will need all of you to be there, all the _Guardians_ , the king and his sister and whichever other Wakandans would like to show up are welcome. I will ask my people myself.”

“… Really?” Rogers asks. “Sorry, that sounded — easier than I thought it would be.”

“Captain,” Loki smiles, knowing it won’t reach his eyes, “I never said no to a good play, and while I will regret that not many of Asgard’s best actors survived Ragnarok, I think your lot will do. Also, maybe I _did_ need something to think about that was not — never mind that. I will see the both of you tomorrow.”

“That’s set then,” Rogers says. “Thank you. Whatever you need for this, just let — whoever will be in charge know.”

“Oh, I most likely will,” Loki grins. “I will see you tomorrow.”

Banner nods back at him and leaves along with Rogers. Loki realizes that maybe he should have offered them some of that wine, then decides that if at all it will be for next time and moves on to ponder his current predicament.

If they have to _stream_ this play all over Midgard, he reasons, he will need not only a known author — he will need an _extremely_ well-known author whose work might be studied in the entire planet, and hopefully adapted. And given that it’s the _US_ government they have to impress, as much as he loathes the prospect, it should be an English author.

Well then, he decides, with these premises it has to be Shakespeare or nothing. He smiles in satisfaction — he does greatly enjoy the man’s plays, and he has greatly enjoyed seeing the Midgardians argue about whether he really wrote them or not, but that’s neither here nor there. He needs one play, with a fair amount of characters, possibly not sad, or he supposes the point would not be made. And one that would allow for a diverse cast, if you can call diverse Thor’s friends, Asgardians, Wakandans and other aliens from — wherever it is Quill’s friends come from. So, no tragedies. _Pity_. But maybe another time. No, he doesn’t need a tragedy, he needs —

Oh.

He knows _exactly_ what he needs, he decides, grinning to himself, and then he considers the dangers of teleporting to — somewhere he might find a copy to refresh his memory. Then he figures that if he asks the princess, she might find him one without risking any further to compromise her brother’s negotiations.

Fair.

——

The princess has what he needs and she even provides him with one of those Midgardian tablets to read it. Loki brings it back to his room, pours himself a last glass of wine and proceeds to sip it throughout re-reading it, noting to the side who he thinks _might_ be a good fit for this or that character, and by the time he’s done, he thinks he has… if not a _winning_ cast, one that might work for what Banner said he hoped it would.

The problem is that he’s going to have to personally convince Thor, who _has_ to be part of this, and possibly Heimdall as well because he doubts he’s going to just accept no questions asked, but never mind. He can worry about that after settling everything else.

——

“I don’t like how you’re smiling,” Stark says the moment Loki walks inside the Wakandans’ meeting room where everyone was waiting for him, exactly as he had asked. To think they cooperate when it comes to theater plays — he definitely had chosen the wrong approach to vindicate himself by conquering Midgard, hadn’t he?

Never mind that _that_ is behind him.

Oh, it is.

“Stark, I am smiling merely because I know _exactly_ what will get your _stream_ the good publicity you want. And I see that almost everyone I need is here.”

“Hey, I said it, I’m on the sets! Don’t you dare making me _act_ —”

“You were not an option,” Loki smirks back. Everyone else is sitting down and looking at him half as if they’re somewhat excited and half as if they’re regretting agreeing to this. Rogers just looks like he’d be fine with _anything_ as long as it gets results — Loki cannot disagree.

“Very well,” he says. “You said you wanted a well-known Midgardian play that would not sadden people too much. I have found it.”

He snaps his fingers and at once, a hologram appears behind him — well, Wakandian technology has almost nothing to envy to Asgardian’s.

“ _The Tempest_?” Banner asks. “Classic, I suppose.”

“Hm,” Stark admits, “ _not bad_.”

Everyone else either agrees openly or does not say they don’t like it. Loki figures it’s good enough.

“So, do we all agree that we’re fine with this?” Loki asks.

“Do I _really_ have to learn this shit by heart if I want to be in it?” The raccoon asks from the other side of the room, not looking too excited about the prospect.

“It _does_ look daunting,” his companion — right, _Drax_ — replies.

“Oh,” Loki says, “you and your _friends_ can help out with the technical side _and_ you can play the spirits. They shouldn’t have any lines of import.”

“Okay, we’re in,” the raccoon says at once while Drax slaps his back.

“I am Groot,” the tree replies.

The two women and Quill are less enthusiast but they also seem in agreement, so — good.

“Now,” he says, “on to serious matters. Let’s go about the people who actually have to learn lines. Do you _all_ have a clue of what it’s about? If not, take a moment to read the plot.”

A hologram appears in front of everyone sitting in the room and they bend their heads down to read it. Good.

When he’s satisfied that everyone has read the plot, he produces his list that he had complied last night. Admittedly, he thinks, _maybe_ if he hadn’t been drinking while writing it down some choices would have been different, but he thinks it still holds up, and he intends to make this _amusing_ , not sad.

“So, back to the point. In Shakesperean spirit, I have _not_ looked at gender when deciding who was going to be in the cast. Also, I picked the roles figuring also who would fit them better. Now, as Prospero, we need someone smart and capable and who is supposed to use magic, but since I have a feeling our friend Strange does _not_ want to show his face in such a thing —”

“You guess right,” Strange mutters from his place next to Stark. At least he showed up.

“— And since we need some of our gracious hosts to act in this, I decided it should go to the princess here, if she’s amenable.”

Shuri looks at him as if she had _not_ expected it. “Wait, _what_? I should be Prospero?”

“And why not? You have the presence,” Loki shrugs. “And your brother can play Antonio, who has a relatively little role, but of enough importance that he can show up in the play, therefore giving it his blessing with his presence, as well.”

The king clears his throat. “Well, if it’s a small role, I suppose there would be no harm in it and Shuri has nothing urgent to work on, I think.”

“Well, fine,” Shuri agrees. “Wow, that sounds cool. Okay, so, then who is everyone else?”

Loki smirks. “Sergeant Barnes.”

“Yes?” The man says, suddenly looking up from the hologram in front of him.

“You are Miranda.”

“Wait, what, I’m _her_ daughter? Loki, I’m a _guy_.”

“And she’s a woman, so what? When these plays were performed first everyone in them was male, regardless. Also, you need to star in this because from what I hear _you_ are one of the people in this room who needs public opinion on his side.” Also, if you ask Loki, he had _perfect_ hair for the part, regardless of him being a man, but he thinks he might have to keep this for himself. “Same as Captain Rogers, who should therefore be Ferdinando.”

“ _What_?” Rogers exclaims. “Me? Loki, Christ, I can’t act my way out of — you _do_ know that when I had to sell people war bonds I had to read the lines behind the shield?”

Loki _did_ know that. “Well, _your_ image is in need of rehabilitation _and_ honestly, given how you and Sergeant Barnes look at each other, I think that it would be better if you didn’t act at all and just recited the lines, I’m sure you would pull it off.”

Rogers goes red in the face. Barnes does, too. Sam Wilson erupts in a fairly loud laugh behind them and says that Loki has currently gained a lot of points as far as he’s concerned.

Well, good to have an ally.

“Dr. Banner, you can be Gonzalo. If people need to see that you’re not _angry_ nor a threat, playing the nice person bringing the lovebirds over there food and speaking reasonably might help you out. As far as Ariel is concerned — right, I will find Valkyrie and ask her,” he sighs, noticing she’s not here. “Now, concerning the pair that should bring the actual _fun_ to this play, at least most of it — Korg, you should be Trinculo.”

“Man, who is this guy?”

“Someone who wants a revolution against his master and who likes his drink,” Loki makes it short.

“Sweet, man, I’m in. Wait, I see here I have a partner?”

“Right. Stefano. I was wondering,” Loki says, eyeing that tall, handsome Wakandan warrior who he has talked to maybe twice but would work wonders in that role should he accept, “would _you_ want to?”

The warrior — M’Baku, _now_ he recalls the name — looks at him _very_ skeptically. “I should act in _your_ play?”

“Why not? You have the presence,” Loki says, “and I feel that you might have a talent.”

The man thinks about it for a moment. “Well, if the princess and the _king_ are in, never let it be said that M’Baku couldn’t rise to such an easy challenge.”

“Excellent,” Loki grins. “Now, Caliban should be my brother, who is of course absent, so I will talk to him about that later. Wilson, Romanoff, you could be Alonso and Sebastian if you’d like.”

“Sure,” Wilson grins, “I always dreamed of playing the bad guy in something.”

“As if,” Romanoff says, “I’ve done worse than _acting_. Sure. Count me in.”

“So, are we all agreeing on this?” Loki asks, satisfied that his casting is done and over.

Everyone does.

“Very well. Then I will go find Thor later and see if he’s amenable and if Heimdall can do what I need him to. But before then, I will need people working backstage. _Therefore_ , Stark already volunteered for the sets. I need someone for the special effects — I don’t want it to look _lame._ Maybe the _wizard_ would like to?”

Strange openly rolls his eyes at him, but doesn’t say no. “Fine, I’ll do your special effects.”

“Sweet,” Stark says, “we’re going to make a pretty damn good team, but we did that already, didn’t we?”

Strange doesn’t say no.

“Right. I was thinking that since we need people to adjust to the idea of _Asgardians_ living on Earth, everyone who wears clothes should don Asgardian garb. There are plenty of my people who would be glad to help out with it, but I think I will need at least three of you supervising the process and sewing what they can’t. Anyone?”

The kid with the spider suit raises his hand. “Uh, I sewed my first suit. I can do it.”

Then _both_ women with Peter Quill’s group do. “I am _extremely_ precise,” the blue one — right, _Nebula_ — says.

“I am as well,” Gamora echoes. “And after the month I had fighting Thanos, it sounds like a distraction.”

“Hey, hey,” Quill says, standing up, “won’t you need music?”

“… I suppose I might,” Loki says, nodding. “I hadn’t thought —”

“Man, I am a _pro_ at finding things a soundtrack. Leave it with me, won’t you?”

Loki has a feeling saying yes will come back to bite him, but the man looks enthusiastic and his friends seem to agree and it’s not like he can worry about _music_ now. “All right,” he says, “you can deal with the music.”

“ _Awesome,”_ Quill grins, and Loki’s sure that he will absolutely, entirely regret this, but never mind _that_.

“Right,” Loki says, “at this point I will need to go and find both my brother and Heimdall. If tomorrow Your Majesty will be amenable to show me the theater so I can have an idea of where we’re rehearsing it, maybe we can take five days for you to start learning your parts and start early next week. Does it sound good?”

“It does to me,” T’Challa says. “I will make sure to have no negotiations going on tomorrow.”

“Hey,” Parker says at once, “wouldn’t it be better if we streamed… not just the play?”

“Kid, be more specific,” Stark prompts him a moment later.

“Well, I mean, the play would be great, but maybe people could have a look at some of the rehearsal, or maybe at us backstage and see interviews with the actors and so on, so you would like, build a hype and when the time for the play comes people actually followed us so they’re more invested, and you start having people tweet stuff from _before._ ”

“That’s smart,” Shuri agrees immediately. “Yes, that would definitely capitalize on the whole social media angle. I can definitely arrange someone filming. Maybe we’d need a presenter at this point. As in, someone who’d be in charge of explaining people how it works and so on.”

Loki has to concede that it’s a good idea. It _would_ build up hype.

“Should the presenter be someone else that needs _good rep_?” Stark asks.

“I think someone should ask Vision,” Rogers says. “He could do that, and also he can look human if he wants to, and he’s in _dire_ need of good rep.”

“Fine by me,” Loki agrees. It’s not like a robot that phases through walls will change the situation overmuch. “You can ask him. If his woman wants to share, two is better than one, I suppose. Unless she wants to help the wizard with the _special effects_.”

“She’s welcome,” Strange deadpans, and then everyone else moves down to check their hologram-copy of the the play, and Loki moves closer to the king.

“Your Majesty.”

“I think we can dispose of formalities,” he replies, smiling tiredly.

“Very well. T’Challa. I’m told you know exactly where it is that my brother and Heimdall go sparring. May I know?”

“Of course,” T’Challa replies, and tells him.

Well, it’s not far. He can deal with this right now, he decides, and disappears from the room.

At least now Thor _will_ have to talk to him instead of avoiding him as he has done since he came back to life.

——

The moment Loki appears in the location he was given, he has to give it to the others — they hadn’t exaggerated when they said the small hill had been leveled out of existence.

They also hadn’t exaggerated when they said that Thor and Heimdall were _really_ taking this sparring thing seriously. They aren’t even using weapons right now, just hands, and the ground trembles as Heimdall throws Thor to the ground without too much finesse. Loki almost flinches the moment he notices how Thor looks — his face is covered in blood and there’s bruises all over the left side of it, and he can see faint scars of _something_ he can’t quite pinpoint on his chest.

Well, if anything, he looks the part, he decides, trying to _not_ let pettiness get the better of him when he has to convince both to agree to his plan.

“May I have a word?”

They immediately stop going at each other — Heimdall actually looks _somewhat_ happy that he’s here, even if you wouldn’t know just glancing at him. Thor meets his eyes for a moment and then _flinches_.

What in the Nine Realms is this ridiculousness?

“You may have even two,” Heimdall says dryly. “I was in dire need of a break, anyhow.”

“And is _he_?” Loki asks, nodding towards Thor.

“No,” Thor replies curtly.

Then nothing else. He’s still not looking at him.

Loki finds this state of things absolutely, inherently _wrong_ , but never mind that. He’d have thought Thor would have at least appreciated that he tried to take Thanos out just before — well, _what happened_ — and that he _had_ told the truth, the full truth, for once.

And instead —

 _Never mind_.

“So,” Loki says, “my brother’s friends seem to have come up with a way to get us out of this unpleasant situation where we cannot leave this fair country.”

“Really,” Heimdall says. “Then I’m all ears. I do like it here but it would be nice to cross the border.”

Loki thinks Heimdall’s never been so civil to him in his entire life. _Well then._

He explains the matter as quickly as he can, keenly aware that Thor’s keeping himself to the side and glancing at the both of them once in a while before staring resolutely at the ground.

“So, I would need the both of you to make this work.”

“Please don’t tell me I should _act_ ,” Heimdall says.

“No, I need to you to be the stage manager. And do not tell me you couldn’t do it, whenever plays were shown in Asgard when we were children and _we_ had to star in it you always would volunteer for _that_ before anyone else could.”

Heimdall smiles ever so slightly. “Well, watching over what people do would be a welcome change from the last few months,” he mutters. “Fair. I will _manage your stage_ , Loki. And how about him?”

Loki conjures a physical copy of the book in his hands, then sends it flying straight towards Thor’s head, hitting it without too many ceremonies.

“ _What_ —”

“Nice to finally hear your voice, brother,” Loki sighs. “You _have_ to be in it because you’re only Asgardian people know on Earth and that’s not up for discussion, if the point is making sure they _like all of us_ , too. And you’re playing Caliban, and that’s not up for discussion either because you have the build and if you take that fake eye out you will be perfect for it.”

“I didn’t say I agreed —”

“Thor, I don’t know what in the Nine Realms is up with _you_ ,” Loki interrupts, letting his tone carry all the disappointment he’s felt since Thor has started avoiding him the moment he _came back to life_ , “but if you do not agree this entire thing falls apart because everyone agreed _you_ had to be in it for the reasons I already explained, and I think that if you are here _sparring_ to release pent-up anger, I picked the right role for you. The meeting to at least read the part with everyone else involved is five days from now in the usual room your friends chose for whenever they have to discuss how the negotiations did not work out. I’d advise you to be there or I will drag you, or have Heimdall drag you. Heimdall, if you want to come tomorrow to look at the venue with the king, find me in the morning. Understood?”

Thor says nothing.

Heimdall looks at him first, then at Loki. “Understood. I will see you tomorrow and _he_ will see you in five days.”

Thor looks like he wants to protest, but Loki disappears before he can hear it.

One time, he’d have stayed.

Now, he’s too angry that _this_ is what he gets for dying with the truth on his lips and after giving up the Tesseract for — for _him_ , who else?

He appears again in his room and proceeds on conjuring another copy of the book. He needs to decide where to cut because there is no way people would not get bored if he went for the entire thing, and then to send the approved script to everyone else — at least he can do that with Wakandan tech.

Better than thinking about whatever’s wrong with Thor, indeed.

——

The following morning, he has sent everyone the amended copy. No one answered except for Peter Quill, who had said he was _very excited_ to work on the soundtrack.

Loki didn’t tell him that there is _already_ a soundtrack, or at least, _songs_ , in the text, but never mind that. He will deal with that later.

Right now, he’s entirely more interested in marveling at Birnin Zana’s local theater — the place is _gorgeous_ and it would definitely have stood comparison to most in Asgard’s. Apparently there are smaller ones, but this is the most important one and it’s exquisitely decorated — the architecture is modern and sleek on the outside, same as most of the capital city’s, and it’s somehow reflected on the inside with walls that shine with vibranium. On top of that, the seats are exquisitely designed but extremely comfortable.

“T’Challa,” Loki says, “this is one gorgeous theater. And the stage is large enough to actually put up a _very_ good show.”

“Thank you,” T’Challa replies, sounding proud. “We do take art seriously. Would you like a backstage tour?”

“Of course,” Loki says. “Heimdall here probably needs it more than I do.”

“Indeed,” Heimdall says, and it’s obvious he’s busy taking in the location. Considering that he has to keep things running under control when Loki is busy handling the acting, of course he is.

“Do follow me, then. If you wish to bring the others that should work backstage here in the next days or to take a look at the place on your own later, I will have someone find you a copy of the keys, from what I see I can trust you both to not destroy the place.”

That’s more than what Loki had figured and definitely more trust than most people have shown him in years, so he doesn’t look at the gift horse in the mouth and follows T’Challa along with Heimdall. By the time the tour is over, Loki thinks he has an idea of how he wants to stage this. Given that he has a stage larger than most he has seen, he can aim high, and if they all have to wear Asgardian garb —

“Do you wish to stay here a while longer? I have to get back to the palace, but it’s no problem.”

Right. He’s a _king_ , he cannot spend his entire time showing them around.

“Of course,” Loki says. “Thank you for taking the time to show us around. And — actually, I would like that, and I think I need a few words with Heimdall, too, before we go.”

“Very well. The guard at the entrance will provide you both with keys. With your permission, I also will go _study my script_ ,” the man says, smiling slightly, and then leaves the both of them alone.

“What _word_ did you want to have with me?” Heimdall asks after a long, long moment of silence.

Loki looks back at him, thinking of how unlike his usual he looks dressed in Wakandan garb and with his hair free and not stuck under that gold helmet. Then again, _all_ of them aren’t looking like _their usual_ and for one, Heimdall has seemingly taken to _being brought back to life_ better than either him or Thor.

“I’m sure you are not doing this for your personal amusement nor because you are in any hurry to rebuild Asgard somewhere else.”

“I might be in a hurry to rebuild Asgard, but no, I am not doing this for my _personal amusement_. I am doing this because I can see that at least this time you have good intentions, and I know you died on the right side, and I am in no hurry to let old grudges sour the fact that _some_ of us survived Ragnarok _and_ Thanos. And anything that might help Midgardians accept us cannot be bad news. Of course, there’s also the matter that I would like to keep an eye on your brother, but that’s what you really wanted to ask, wasn’t it?”

The man was _always_ too observant for his own good, Loki decides. “Then you know _why_ is he behaving so — _nonsensically_?”

“Do you think his behavior is _nonsensical_?” Heimdall asks, sounding genuinely fascinated.

“It is,” Loki replies at once. “There is no reason why he should be _avoiding me_ , and he’s done that since — since we came back. There is no reason he should be avoiding everyone _else_ not counting you, Steve Rogers, Banner and a few others of his Midgardian friends. I died making sure he knew I was siding with _him_ , what have I done to deserve that behavior?”

Heimdall stares at him as if he cannot believe Loki is _this_ daft, which is — not a look many people have bestowed upon him. “You don’t even _suspect_ ,” he finally groans. “Of course you don’t. And _he_ — the Norns help me, you are _both_ worthy of each other.”

“… Excuse me?”

“He is not talking to you for a fairly nonsensical reason, I agree, but to _him_ it’s not. And you are, of course, completely looking at the wrong picture, but when has it ever been any news.”

“Heimdall —”

“ _Loki_. I cannot tell you why he’s not talking to you, because it would be a breach of trust he would not appreciate and I do _not_ betray a friend’s trust especially when it’s about… a _delicate_ matter, shall we say, but if you want to know you two have to talk and he won’t talk to you first. Let’s just say that he has reasons for behaving _nonsensically_ and you are colossally wrong in assuming his issue is with _you_ , and I already said too much. Think about it and I shall see you at rehearsals. Also, the princess gifted me with one of those Wakandan comms, you might reach me at any time you need.”

And then he turns his back on him and Loki is left standing in the middle of the empty parterre wondering _what in the Nine Realms he meant_.

Whatever issue Thor has, is not with _him_?

He shakes his head and turns back to look at the stage.

Oh, he thinks, _yes_ , his plan might actually work out really well in such a suited location. It _might_ , indeed.

——

“Wait, are you saying I should _rebuild Asgard_ on that stage?” Stark asks the next day — Loki asked over to the theater most people who are supposed to work backstage, so he’s here along with Strange, Quill’s crew and the Parker kid.

“Not _all_ of Asgard,” Loki says, “of course. I’m not that much of a megalomaniac.”

“You could have fooled me,” Stark rolls his eyes as he _doesn’t_ take the folder Loki’s handing him. “I don’t like to be handed things,” he says, and Strange huffs before taking the folder and thrusting it at him. “Oh, thanks, I guess,” Stark sighs, then thumbs through the entire thing. Loki has given him a _full_ stock of drawings he made of the garden in his — Thor’s — _their_ father’s palace on Asgard, and of the nearby wing of the palace that allowed access to it, so he’d better be able to replicate it.

“ _That_ ,” Loki says, “is how the garden on Asgard looked like. Since it’s supposed to be an island with luscious vegetation _and_ someplace for Prospero and his daughter to live, it would be the best background since it has both of them, and it would provide also the fake wood for that scene in Act Three —”

“What, when Ferdinando has to cut off logs and bring them in?” Stark asks. “Yes, I read the entire thing in half an hour yesterday. Entertaining.”

“Yes. Why?”

Stark laughs. “Rogers can break a _real_ one with bare hands. You might wanna use that, pal. Anyway, that’s entirely doable. You want the walls to move so they show the inside of the room?”

 _Not bad_. “Yes,” Loki says. “I might need it. Of course, in the beginning I will need some _convincing_ effects to make sure everyone realizes there’s been a shipwreck.”

Strange huffs, then snaps his fingers and a moment later he hear thunder roaring throughout the entire place — the light goes down at once, leaving them in the dark, and then the stage is bathed in white once, twice, as _more_ thundering sounds can be heard. Then Strange snaps his fingers again and everything is back to normal.

“That’s the equivalent of party tricks to me, but still, would that satisfy you?”

“Fine, _fine_ , I’m not underestimating you,” Loki admits grudgingly. “Never could after you made me fall for _half an hour_.”

“If you had _behaved_ on Earth I’d have offered you some wine instead,” Strange smirks.

“Never mind. Ladies,” he says, looking at Gamora, Mantis and Nebula next, “and — Parker.” He figures he won’t gain anything by not calling people by their proper names. “Heimdall should be at the door and he arranged a meeting with a few Asgardian ladies who back home sewed clothing as a job. I have told them what I had in mind and they should give you some pointers and the necessary to start on the costumes — I do not know if they feel up to help you any more, but if they do, you can show them the backstage room. Please do keep me updated.”

“Understood,” Nebula says. “Stark, if you need help with tech when I’m not on _that_ , just ask.”

Right. Because they apparently spent time together on Thanos’s planet.

“You bet,” Stark grins. “Man, this is going to be interesting. Give me a couple days.”

Well, at least _someone_ is enthusiastic, Loki thinks, and _then_ Quill moves closer with a grin he does _not_ like whatsoever.

“Hey, I was wondering, I actually read the entire thing and I think I have ideas for the songs,” he says, smiling like there’s no tomorrow, and — well. Loki _did_ enlist him, didn’t he?

“Very well. What was your idea?”

“See,” Quill says, “the entire thing is actually entertaining and I’m sure people will love it, but if we have to make it look like, y’know, everyone of us wants to live on Earth and knows the basics of human culture, and there’s _sung_ parts in it, why don’t we just put on actual _classics_ everyone loves instead? I mean, nothing against the original, but who gets bothered at stuff like _come unto these yellow sands and then take hands_? Like, come on, this needs an upgrade.”

“And I imagine you have… upgraded the entire thing?”

“Oh, I _did_. I mean, it’s all stuff I already had on my mp3, but since coming here I’ve had time to look into new music and man, what did I miss. So, I’ve made you a list,” he grins, and hands a piece of paper to Loki.

On which there are scribbled the first lines of each song along with the supposed substitute.

Now, Loki might be a fairly good connoisseur of Midgardian theater, but Midgardian _music_ past their nineteenth century is _not_ certainly what he has any knowledge of.

“I imagine you have your _player_ where I could listen to this… _Africa_?” Loki asks.

“Man, I can send you the Spotify playlist, but sure, I’ve got it here.”

Loki is kind of not relishing putting in his ear an earbud that’s been inside _Quill_ ’s, but he has to play nice, doesn’t he?

“Fine. Let’s hear it.”

He hears it.

His first reaction is saying, _absolutely not_.

But then Quill gives him another grin that reminds it _way_ too much of the way Thor used to do it back before — _before_ , and he doesn’t have the heart to.

“You _do_ realize Valkyrie is never going to accept singing _that_ on stage?”

“Oh, we can just put it on the background, she doesn’t have to.”

 _Fair_ , Loki figures. Also, this is… for Midgardians. Maybe some of them will be amused.

He looks at the rest of the list.

The other choices are, according to to it:

— _Father and Son_ , Cat Stevens;

— _Celebration of the Lizard_ , The Doors;

— _Head_ , Prince;

— _Take on Me_ , A-Ha;

— _Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There’s a Season)_ , The Byrds;

— _If I Had a Hammer_ , Peter, Paul and Mary.

Loki has _absolutely_ no clue of who these people are. Quill still looks like it’s the best idea he’s ever had.

“How did you call that thing you should send me?”

“The Spotify playlist?”

“… Just _send it_ ,” Loki says. “And you’re in charge of playing these at the right moment, I guess.”

“Oh, but the ones at the wedding, we can totally sing! I mean, if it’s me and the others playing the _spirits_ , don’t you think they _wouldn’t_ know them? I made them listen to all of these a lot, you know.”

“… Fair,” Loki replies, a shudder running through his spine.

Very well. He’s _definitely_ going to stage this more like a farce than like a _serious_ play, because if the spirits wedding choir is made up of Quill and his friends and _they_ all have to sing, there is no way he can spin it as anything even remotely close to serious.

He just hopes that farces means Midgardians do come around more easily.

——

He listens to the _Spotify playlist_.

He proceeds to drink some of the wine he had left straight from the bottle before reminding himself that most likely Shakespeare himself wouldn’t have objected.

That said, Midgardian music from the _seventies_ or whatever Quill said it was, is downright atrocious.

——

The day before they’re supposed to do the table reading, he actually does swallow his pride and goes to knock on Thor’s door — if anything, he doesn’t want to start things with the wrong foot tomorrow.

He knocks and receives no answers. He opens it and finds it empty.

He sighs, closes it and wonders for the umpteenth time what did Heimdall even mean when he said it wasn’t _about him_.

Since when hasn’t it ever been, when Thor didn’t talk to him?

——

The next day, everyone _but_ Thor is on time.

Loki might actually start to get worried here, except that Heimdall assures him that he’s going to come, so — well, he will buy it, he supposes.

Meanwhile, he looks at his cast, currently sitting on a neat row of chairs he had conjured on the stage. The princess is here, her brother is, too, even if he said he could only sit through the first reading, Valkyrie is here but looks thoroughly _not_ invested in it, Rogers is staring at his script — one of the few who’s not using a tablet to read it, along with Barnes and Banner — and looking like a fish out of water. Romanoff and Wilson look merely amused at Rogers’s plight, Korg and M’Baku had been talking to each other before Loki came in which means they’re already discussing their roles and _maybe_ there is half a chance the comical side of this thing will go over well, Banner is nodding as he revises some of his lines and Rhodes is joking about only having two lines and not needing to put that much effort into it.

Well, he does have a — varied cast. Hopefully he’ll make something out of it.

“Ladies, gentlemen,” he says, “I trust you all read the part.”

“Hey, I _learned_ it,” M’Baku says, sounding offended. “We do _not_ do things halfway where I come from.”

“Same, man,” Korg says. “It wasn’t that hard.”

Well, good thing _that_. “Very well,” Loki says. “Everyone else?”

Everyone says they at least read through it.

“Good. So, since the sets are still being worked on and we need to see how this entire thing holds up, please take your scripts — except Korg and M’Baku, I suppose — and we can just have a full-read through before the king has to go doing more important things. I was told we will have the rehearsals streams a few days from now, so let’s see if we can make this somehow acceptable before then.”

“God, I’ll be terrible at it,” Rogers sighs. “But sure. Let’s give it a try.”

“Man, if you start with that defeated attitude, you’re not going to pull a good performance.”

“Thanks, Korg, exactly what I meant. Come on, let’s see what we have here, especially because then I have to tell you how I want this to go.”

He honestly, _honestly_ hopes some of these people are actually naturals and he hadn’t noticed it, even if he supposes that if he sets it up like a farce it won’t matter.

——

By the time they’ve gone through most of Act One, at least he knows for sure a few things. As in: the princess is actually very good and has put at least a fair amount of thought in her work while studying the part, because while she’s a tad too serious for what he had in mind, she _can_ deliver a line and she certainly can sound as self-assured as the part needs be. Rhodes is _not_ a natural, but then again as he said he has such a meager amount of lines that it’s not a pressing issue. Wilson and Romanoff would actually be quite good if they weren’t about to burst out laughing at each other every three lines, but that can be worked on. Barnes is actually _not bad_ — if anything he has comedic timing, which is exactly what he was hoping for. Valkyrie has _sort of_ learned at least the beginning but she’s reciting the lines more than acting, and _that_ might be a damned problem, because if Ariel doesn’t deliver then the entire thing is fucked. Maybe he should have Ariel drink copiously. _Maybe_ that’d work.

Anyhow, they’re at the part where Prospero and Miranda talk to Caliban and he’s about to ask Heimdall where in the world has Thor ended up when the door leading to the foyer slams open and his brother _finally_ walks in.

“Man,” Korg says as he joins them on stage, “you _really_ look like shit. You sure you’re fine?”

“Thank you,” Thor says, “I am. And I think I arrived just in time, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Loki says, carefully. “We’re just doing a table reading. Where’s your script?”

“I learned it all already,” Thor says, still not quite looking at him. Norns, _why won’t he_? “I am ready whenever anyone else is.”

 _Well then_ , at least he’s taking it seriously.

“Right. Someone read the first line for you before, so — can we all go from Shuri’s _thou poisonous slave_ and then forward?”

“Sure,” Shuri says. She clears his throat, bringing the tablet back up. “Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself, upon thy wicked dam, come forth!” She exclaims.

Thor sits down on the only empty chair, letting himself fall down hard enough it creaks.

And then —

“As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush’d with raven's feather from unwholesome fen drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye and blister you all o’er!” He spits out and — _all right_ , wait a moment, it’s _good_ and it’s appropriate and in a situation where serious acting was required that would have been excellent delivery, but Loki for a moment feels taken aback by how _angry_ Thor sounds. And fine, _he_ had suggested him to release whatever pent-up anger he had by taking that role, but —

That’s a tad too much.

“For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins shall, for that vast of night that they may work, all exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd

As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging than bees that made ‘em,” Shuri retorts, sounding also a bit taken aback.

Thor pulls a face that makes Loki almost flinch, for how _bitter_ he looks.

“I must eat my dinner,” he says, and he _sounds_ as bitter as he looks. “This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, which thou takest from me.” Wait, does he sound _pained_ now? “When thou camest first, thou strokedst me and madest much of me, wouldst give me water with berries in't, and teach me how to name the bigger light, and how the less, that burn by day and night: and then I loved thee and show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle, the fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile: cursed be I that did so! All the charms of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! For I am all the subjects that you have, which first was mine own king: and here you sty me in this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me the rest o' the island.” He wipes at his eyes a moment later and Loki honestly can’t understand if he’s acting or not, which — is something he would have known centuries ago, wouldn’t he? But _wow_ , that was —

That was very raw and extremely intense, and he’s plenty aware that _everyone_ on stage has noticed that Thor’s putting a level of effort in this that almost no one else could or would, and mostly that he’s not… acting, possibly.

He and Shuri exchange a few other barbs, even if she sounds way less sure of it than before, but still, they do work together well enough. Then she clears her throat.

“Abhorred slave,” she starts, “Which any print of goodness wilt not take, being capable of all ill! I pitied thee, took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour one thing or other: when thou didst not, savage, know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like a thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes with words that made them known. But thy vile race, though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou Deservedly confined into this rock, who hadst deserved more than a prison.” By the end, she sounds rightfully angry and she’s not hesitant anymore — good. She was a good pick, he decides.

“You taught me language; and my profit on’t is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you for learning me your language!” Thor snaps back, and Loki — Loki _really_ needs to talk to him soon because he’s never heard him sounding like _this_. And usually words don’t fail him, but right now he doesn’t even know how he’d describe it.

“Hag-seed, hence! Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou'rt best, to answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice? If thou neglect'st or dost unwillingly what I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps, fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar that beasts shall tremble at thy din,” Shuri proclaims, holding her own.

“No, pray thee,” Thor answers, in such a mocking tone that Loki would like to ask, _are you channeling_ me _to do that_ , because it’s awfully familiar. “I must obey: his art is of such power, it would control my dam's god, Setebos, and make a vassal of him.” He sighs, nodding, and that’s it.

For a moment, no one says anything. Then —

“Well, no one is ever going to take _me_ seriously,” Rogers says, and for a moment Loki is happy about it because _everyone_ laughs at that, Thor included, _some_ , and he’s still not looking at him.

“Don’t worry,” Loki says, “you will do perfectly at what _you_ have to do. Meanwhile — good to see you out and about, _brother_.”

“I said I would do this, didn’t I?” He asks, and — why did he flinch before meeting his eyes for a moment?

This is all so _wrong_ , Loki would really like to know what’s the bloody matter.

“Never mind. Let’s go on, shall we? Oh, _right_. Quill, put that song on.”

“On it, boss!”

Valkyrie starts laughing the moment it starts playing. Most other Midgardians do while Rogers and Barnes look fairly puzzled at it. The princess is bent in two with tears falling from her eyes, thought, and Loki’s about to tell Quill to can it, except that then —

“Oh,” the princess says, “are we _really_ doing this with the old-ass soundtrack?”

“What if we are?” Loki asks, figuring that since she’s young and Midgardian she would know whether it’d work or not.

“Oh, that’ll get all the memers on your side. You should _absolutel_ y _go for it_ ,” she confirms.

… Loki will definitely look into what does she even mean, but if according to her it’s a good idea, he’s going to keep the horrible old-ass soundtrack, whatever it means.

“You know I will never manage to stay serious while doing _this_ , don’t you?” Valkyrie asks a moment later.

“Well, try. At least you don’t have to sing,” Loki says, hoping to cut the matter there.

At that point, though, he realizes that the morning has gone entirely and T’Challa has to excuse himself to leave, and Rogers is asking if he can have one more day to memorize at least Act Two even if according to Barnes he _should_ know it, so he decides to send home everyone except Thor, M’Baku and Korg because he wants to see how those three do work together and since _two_ people in the entire cast did bother to learn the entire spiel in five days, he should hear them out.

So he does, and — they’re _good_. Or better, Korg isn’t acting, he’s just being _himself_ , but it does work extremely well as far as he’s concerned, and M’Baku is indeed _very_ good, Loki thinks — he did learn the part, he’s actually _acting_ it out rather than just saying the lines, he does have good comedic timing and those two do play off each other fairly well.

Thor —

Thor is _definitely_ not playing it for comedy, but he thinks that the contrast does work well — if he’s exceedingly serious and they’re _not_ , it does make sense with the text, it does work indeed if he approaches this like a complete farce and it just makes the entire scene way funnier, so he decided that _they_ are perfect the way they are and he tells them that when they’re done. M’Baku grins and says that of course he would be good at it, he doesn’t do anything half-way including dumb British plays, Korg just looks happy that Loki’s happy, and Thor —

“Well, I came,” he says. “I will be back for the next rehearsal.” Then he puts on his Midgardian jacket — he came in jeans and a t-shirt, which looks so — so _alien_ on him, Loki isn’t really making sense of it.

“Wait,” he says, “I think we _really_ need to talk.”

“I can’t,” Thor says, looking at him in the eyes like he’s about to _cry_ , and then he leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Loki remains standing in the parterre, _again_ , feeling like a complete fool, _again_ , and wondering what in the Nine Realms is _wrong_ with Thor all over _again_.

He sighs and decides to go backstage to see how everyone else is doing — maybe talking to Stark about the sets will distract him enough from this whole forsaken mess that is _what is wrong with his thrice-damned brother_.

Maybe.

But if he doesn’t want to lie to himself (and he’s done it often enough, lately)… it’s highly unlikely it won’t.

——

Stark is nothing but efficient, not that Loki hadn’t figured that out a long time ago. A week into it and he has most of the set ready — the palace is ready, the garden is not but he’s trying to figure out a way to actually have real vegetation on stage without it dying out in the span of a few days. Strange is apparently _not_ helping with that to Stark’s annoyance, Banner is whenever he’s not studying his lines and Loki leaves them to work on it figuring that _at least_ the aesthetic is not going to be what turns this play into a fiasco.

When he has sufficiently inspected the staging situation, it’s barely early afternoon. He figures he will take a walk and see if he can clear his head, and that’s when he runs into Heimdall, Rogers and Barnes in the foyer. The imagine is honestly surreal — Heimdall is reading Prospero’s lines without even trying to act, Barnes is actually acting out his own and Rogers is most likely practicing his, except that he interrupts himself every other minute because _he sounds horrible._

Barnes is obviously trying to get him to stop thinking about it, Heimdall is staring at them as if he has no opinion whatsoever while if Loki knows him he’s most likely having a lot of fun at their expense. For a moment he thinks that he should step in, but no — there’s the read-through for acts two onward tomorrow, so he might as well make any observations then.

He leaves them be — obviously they have it under control well enough.

He takes a walk in the city — it’s quite lovely, he thinks, nothing like Asgard but somehow similar, and then heads out before teleporting to the place where he found Thor and Heimdall practicing before and he takes care to appear behind one of the nearby rocks instead of smack in the middle of the clearing that was-not-a-clearing up until Thor decided to level it out.

He’s not surprised to see that Thor is indeed there, staring ahead, turning a battered copy of… the script?

What — he’s not so far that he can’t see that he must have read through it a fair amount of times, since the first page is half-torn apart. And — are there _notes_ on the side? He doesn’t know but Thor has definitely scribbled something there.

He’s _this_ tempted to shift into a butterfly or a bird and fly over Thor’s shoulder and see what he’s actually written on there, but somehow it seems like a breach of trust he cannot afford to cross right now, and he hates himself because not long ago he wouldn’t have thought about it twice except that then he thinks all over again of what Thor told him on that thrice-darned elevator in Sakaar —

No.

He’s not going to do it, especially when given their current situation he doesn’t know if Thor would just take it even worse the moment he inevitably finds out, because somehow he always does.

He stays there for a moment.

And then the dumb log starts to — _act_?

“Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.”

 _Right_. That’s — down the line in Act Three, nothing they have rehearsed today yet. Does it mean he has spent all this time here just rehearsing in front of a damned rock?

“Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices that, if I then had waked after long sleep, will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, the clouds methought would open and show riches ready to drop upon me that, when I waked, I cried to dream again,” Thor goes on, and for — he sounds like he’s about to break down crying and Loki doesn’t even know if he’s acting or not, and fine, he can see _why_ , if he’s thinking about what they lost, but it’s been _months_ and Asgard may be lost but its people are _not_ and wasn’t coming to Earth the target before Thanos showed up and shattered that plan into small pieces

( _as many as he had felt his heart shattering into the moment he heard Thor’s screams on the ship?_ )

and Loki honesty does not get what in the Nine Realms is wrong with Thor. He always thought his brother all too easy to read, and he had been massively wrong at least on a few, _important_ things, but right now he’s… behaving _entirely off-script_ , and that does not compute.

This is not how it works, this is not how _they_ work, and he had thought that after Ragnarok they had gone back to it except _better_ than before and he had _known_ what he wanted for once, and now it’s just maddening because they could have it all and Thor just _won’t budge_.

Maybe it’s time he listens to Heimdall without questioning, for once.

He clears his throat and walks out from behind the rock.

“Thor?” He asks, forcing himself to keep any snappy remark from leaving his tongue. He might’ve done it once upon a time, but he has a feeling it would just make things worse.

The script falls to the ground in an uncharacteristically clumsy move, of _Thor_ at least, and he immediately bends down to pick it back up before turning towards Loki again… except that then he openly flinches again and he looks everywhere but at him.

What in —

“Loki,” he replies, entirely too low for his standards.

Then he says nothing else.

Loki has never realized how much he’s sort of always relied on Thor to take the initiative, but he has a feeling that it’s not happening right now.

“If you needed someone to practice that with you could have asked,” Loki says, still keeping his tone neutral, figuring that maybe _this_ will sound easy enough to break the ice.

“I —” Thor starts, but then he shakes his head, raises his eyes, sends Loki such a hurt look it makes him stop from asking the _what did I ever do to you now_ that would have otherwise left his mouth, and a moment later he’s flown upwards and has disappeared somewhere towards the city, him and that axe of his that had been leaning on the rock.

If _Loki_ isn’t the problem, as Heimdall said before, _why_ is he even doing this?

Damn. At this rate, he will have to corner one of Thor’s Midgardian friends to get a clue, and he _hates_ it because once he could read him like an open book (or so he thought) and at least he would have known what was the point.

Now?

He has no bloody idea and it’s driving him mad and he honestly hopes Rogers or the raccoon or _whoever_ has a clue, because at this point he’d rather handle with hurt pride at having to ask someone else than keep on going like this, especially if in a few days their rehearsals have to be broadcasted and _anyone_ might notice that Thor is completely _not_ his usual self.

——

The next day, _at least_ Thor shows up on time. He’s still wearing those Midgardian clothes, but he’s _not_ wearing the fake eye. He’s about to ask why, but the moment he moves close to him Thor about bolts.

Loki can see that Rogers and Heimdall look _extremely_ troubled at that, and the raccoon is as well, and _probably_ the tree, too — Loki has _not_ taken Groot as an elective class so he has no clue of what he’s saying all over, but he has a feeling that given how the four of them are talking in hushed tones among each other they’re all agreeing on the sentiment.

Well, it’s another fifteen minutes before they’re up to rehearse and half of the cast isn’t here, _especially_ Valkyrie, so he might as well go and bloody ask.

“May I have a word?”

“About the —” Rogers starts.

“No, about _my brother_ , since it seems like you are entirely more aware of what has taken hold of him than I am.”

“I told you to talk to him,” Heimdall says, “not to _me_.”

“I _tried_ ,” Loki spits, “that didn’t go over too well.”

“ _How_ did you try?”

Loki wants to know what he even means, but then he figures that maybe the truth is a better idea.

“Well, I called out his name a couple of times, once I asked him if he wanted someone to rehearse with since I caught him in the middle of it and both times he about flew the scene and I swear that I didn’t ask anything further.”

Rogers clears his throat. “Maybe —” He starts.

“No,” Heimdall says. “That would be downright breaching his trust and I will not.”

“Okay,” Rogers agrees, “but if he keeps on _avoiding it_ then we can’t even blame him for not trying.”

“Whatever it is, _thank you_ ,” Loki mutters. If anything, Rogers is being fair as far as he’s concerned.

“Hey,” the raccoon says, “I _did_ try to tell him to at least try to give it five minutes, that didn’t work out too well.”

_They are trying to convince Thor to talk to him?_

The more this farce goes on, the less Loki likes it.

Heimdall gives Rogers a stare that about says _don’t you dare_.

Rogers takes a deep breath. “Listen,” he says, “I can’t _tell_ you, but this has relatively to do with you, all to do with _him_ , and — just, I’ll leave it here, but consider thinking about it from, uh, a different angle.”

“A _different angle_. Captain, I think I have gone through any I could think of.”

“Have you considered,” the raccoon huffs, “what might have happened while _you were dead_? Just a suggestion. And I already said too much, so feel free to figure it out.”

“I am Groot,” the tree proclaims, and then the both of them head backstage most likely to check on their friends.

“Uh,” Rogers says, “I guess I have to be on stage in a bit, so — I’ll go. But — that was good advice.”

Heimdall just _stares_ at him and then he stalks away.

_What might have happened while Loki was dead?_

What — he doesn’t know bar what the others told him, and he knows of how they defeated Thanos and how they fixed everything, but —

He checks the time — well, he has to go. But he’s going to get to the bottom of this before the day is over, or he’s not worthy of any of his names.

——

Of course, the moment he arrives on stage, everyone is there but Valkyrie isn’t. He asks around. No one has seen her.

“I suppose she _doesn’t_ have one of those comms of yours, does she?” He asks the princess.

“Er, she didn’t ask for one,” she replies. “Sorry.”

“Has _anyone_ seen her?”

“Uh, Mr. Loki?”

Wait, what — what is Peter Parker doing here?

“Yes?”

“Uh, I was going to get some coffee for all of us upstairs and I heard you and — you want to know where Valkyrie is?”

“Do _you_ know?” Loki asks skeptically.

“Er, I _don’t_ , but yesterday Nebula and Gamora went out for drinks and I went with them to — well, they invited me, so — and we were at this bar in the city and she was too and then —”

“Aren’t you, like, _fifteen_?” Sam Wilson asks.

“I only had a smoothie or two, _thank you_ ,” Parker groans. “Anyway, Valkyrie was there and Okoye was, too, and I saw them talking at the bar and then they left together. So, that was it. I’ll go get those coffees now, they need it,” he says, _waving_ at them, and then he disappears towards the vending machine.

“… Does _Okoye_ have a comm?” Loki asks.

“Of course,” T’Challa says. “Wait, she _will_ answer me. I told her to take the morning off since I would be here, but she should have it open.”

She _does_ , her face appearing into thin air. “Okoye?” T’Challa asks.

“My king,” she says, “I imagine you’re calling because _someone_ hasn’t come to rehearsals?”

“Is the lady Valkyrie with you?”

“With me and W’Kabi, yes.”

… Loki supposes that she does know how to have fun. “My lady, may you ask her if she has only said yes out of supposed duty? Because I don’t want anyone to be here when they don’t want to.”

There’s silence for a moment as Okoye disappears, then she comes back online. “I am afraid she says that if you can find her a substitute she would rather appreciate.”

“Understood. Well, at least we know now. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Okoye says. “Do I still have the morning off?”

“Of course.”

“My thanks,” she closes the call.

For a moment no one speaks, then Loki sighs, wearily. “Fine. _I_ am doing it, I suppose.”

“Shouldn’t you, like, be running the show?” Barnes asks.

“I _should_ , but I also can shapeshift _and_ I know the part already and I can run the show while I’m on stage as well,” Loki says. He does _not_ look at Thor as he says it lest he looks disappointed of it and he has a very poor reaction to it. “So, having set this straight, I think we should rehearse Act Three and see if the Captain is really such a bad actor as he claims.”

Rogers, sort of red in the face, places the script back on his chair as he stands up. “Can I move around?”

“If you prefer, of course,” Loki says. He’s not going to stop him from attempting to act if he likes it better. Also, technically _he_ is supposed to lead him, but he honestly is _not_ going to sing that ridiculous _Africa_ song that Quill put in place of the perfectly good original one, and so he just lets Rogers do his thing.

“Where should this music be? i' the air or the earth? It sounds no more: and sure, it waits upon some god o' the island. Sitting on a bank, weeping again the king my father's wreck, this music crept by me upon the waters, allaying both their fury and my passion with its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it, or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone. No, it begins again,” he says, looking around like he’s a fish out of water, which _does_ work since it’s exactly what he’s supposed to convey. Too bad he’s kind of wooden in the delivery, but nothing they can’t work on. He honestly feels thankful that Quill is _not_ around to discuss the music today since now there’s _another_ one that should now.

“The ditty does remember my drown'd father,” Rogers goes on, his voice kind of getting sadder. Right. Fair enough, that can work. “This is no mortal business, nor no sound that the earth owes. I hear it now above me.”

 _Then_ , the princess and Barnes stand up, moving behind him. At least they both memorized the lines, Loki notices gladly, and they do banter a bit until Barnes delivers _I might call him a thing divine, for nothing natural I ever saw so noble_ with such a straight face and _honesty_ that Loki’s sure he’s not even acting. Like, not at _all_ , and if sometimes he has thought the same of Thor even if he never voiced such a thought, _well_ , no one knows, do they?

“Most sure, the goddess on whom these airs attend!”

 _Well,_ Rogers certainly put way more effort into saying _that_. Or better, he _wasn’t_ acting as he looked at Barnes, who is somehow looking at it as if he’s _a thing divine_ without breaking a sweat. Wilson and Romanoff are about to burst out laughing but Loki honestly hopes they don’t — he doesn’t want these other two to lose their momentum.

“Vouchsafe my prayer may know if you remain upon this island; and that you will some good instruction give how I may bear me here: my prime request, which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder! If you be… maid or no?” Rogers sounds absolutely _embarrassed_ to the Nine Realms and back as he says it, but it kind of works, Loki decides, and —

“No wonder, sir; but certainly a maid,” Barnes replies with a dry sarcasm that Loki _does_ like. Actually, given how much _everyone_ behind them bar Thor erupts into a rather annoying giggling fit, _maybe_ he can just have them do it like this — it certainly _does_ sound farcical and it goes on likewise, with Shuri sounding absolutely _not_ thrilled at the prospect of those two making sweet eyes at each other, until Barnes delivers another _My affections are then most humble; I have no ambition to see a goodlier man_ that sounds entirely sincere and makes Rogers blush the color of a ripe strawberry and the rest of the room, bar Thor, laughs again, loudly, princess included.

 _Well then_.

“Do you think,” Loki says, “that you two could go a bit ahead and do the beginning of Act Three? Rogers, you’re doing fine. I just need to see how you go at it before deciding a few things.”

“Uh, sure,” Rogers says. “You mean, the part where I should propose to her, I mean, _him_?”

“That part exactly. Do go ahead, Captain, even if you might not win awards yet you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to.”

Rogers doesn’t look _too_ convinced but he glances at his script and says he’s good to go.

“Excellent. Uh, _could_ you actually break a few logs?”

“… Tony told you, didn’t he?”

“He might have,” Loki confirms.

“I figured. Anyway, yeah, I can do that.”

“Throughout your whole monologue?”

“I’d rather _do_ something while speaking, honestly.”

Well, at least this will go over well if it means having people _laugh_. “Good. But go straight to the next part for now.”

“All right,” Rogers says. “Bucky, I think you should go first.”

“I should — oh, _right_.” Barnes clears his throat. “Alas, now, pray you, work not so hard: I would the lightning had burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile! Pray, set it down and rest you: when this burns, 'twill weep for having wearied you. My… father is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself;

He's safe for these three hours.” Loki is impressed — he even _winked_ at the last part.

Rogers goes redder in the face than he already was before.

“O most dear mistress,” he replies with _absolute_ conviction, “the sun will set before I shall discharge what I must strive to do.”

Barnes takes his hands. Nice touch.

“If you'll sit down, I'll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that; I'll carry it to the pile.”

"No, precious creature,” Rogers shakes his head, and Loki feels kind of sickened at how he seems to _mean_ that all over before remembering that _he_ actually picked him for the role exactly because if Barnes was Miranda he would have sounded like that. “I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, than you should such dishonour undergo, while I sit lazy by.” And _all right_ , he said that with a lot more intent than needed. Loki wonders what he’s _really_ thinking about, then decides he would rather not know.

“It would become me as well as it does you: and I should do it with much more ease; for my good will is to it, and yours it is against,” Barnes replies kindly, raising his metal hand to touch Rogers’s face, Rogers immediately arching into it and mirroring the gesture, just moving his own to the back of Barnes’s neck, and for a moment Loki remembers a time when _he and Thor_ would do that, and he has to swallow down bile because they certainly are not doing it _now_.

“Admired Miranda! Indeed the top of admiration! worth what's dearest to the world!” Well, _now_ Rogers has taken full steam — he’s so sincere in it, Loki momentarily forgets his irritation. “Full many a lady I have eyed with best regard and many a time the harmony of their tongues hath into bondage brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues have I liked several women; never any with so fun soul, but some defect in her did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed and put it to the foil: but you, o you, So perfect and so peerless, are created of every creature's best!”

… _Right_ , Loki decides, he made an actual good choice because no other combination of people in this room could have delivered such a speech without starting to laugh in the middle of it, and Rogers seems to have really gotten into it, given how he’s staring at Barnes and not where the audience should be. Which he should do once in a while, but never mind — it can be worked on later.

“I do not know one of my sex; no woman's face remember, save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen more that I may call men than you, good friend, and my dear father: how features are abroad, I am skilless of; but, by my modesty, the jewel in my dower, I would not wish any companion in the world but you, nor can imagination form a shape, besides yourself, to like of.” No, all right. Barnes is not even _trying_ to act at this point.

Rogers _isn’t either_. “I am in my condition a prince, Miranda; I do think, a king; I would, not so!--and would no more endure this wooden slavery than to suffer the flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak: the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service; there resides, to make me slave to it; and for your sake am I this patient log—man.”

Loki is _sure_ that Thor has cursed under his breath. But he doesn’t dare turn to look at him lest the current truce breaks and he disappears somewhere else before Loki can even have a word in.

“Do you love me?” Barnes asks, almost _laughing._

“O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound and crown what I profess with kind event if I speak true! if hollowly, invert what best is boded me to mischief! I beyond all limit of what else i' the world do love, prize, honour you.” Rogers is grinning so brightly, Loki feels almost blinded.

Thor used to smile like that, too, _before —_

“I am a fool to weep at what I am glad of.” Barnes wipes at his eyes with the metal hand, and then Rogers says, very loudly, _fuck it_ , and leans down to kiss him, which Loki supposes could be in the script all things considered, and Wilson starts whistling and telling them they have no shame, followed by about everyone else in the room, and then —

“My apologies, I need a moment,” Thor says, and Loki turns to him just to see such a _hurt_ , dejected and _longing_ look on his face that for a moment he’s floored all over again, and then he’s stalking towards the backstage, but —

“Ladies, gentlemen, can I trust you to rehearse the rest without me being present? I think I need to talk to him.”

“That’s why _I_ am here, isn’t it?” Heimdall quips back, right, _he was in the corner_ , and Loki doesn’t even wait for an answer before stalking behind Thor.

“Thor?” He calls out. “Thor, _damn it_ , will you talk to me _one_ minute or is it asking for too bloody much?”

So much for that — Thor is about _running_ or as much as the cramped hallway allows him, which is not a lot, and that’s how Loki _finally_ manages to catch up to him and grab his arm strong enough that Thor gets a clue of how _done_ he is with this entire charade.

“I do _not_ wish to talk,” Thor says after Loki has his arm in a grip hard enough that it would hurt if he pulled it, and at this point, he kind of wants to, except that —

No.

That wasn’t what he had sworn himself in Sakaar.

“Too bad, because for once _I_ do and I would honestly wish to know _what_ it is that I have done to you that would make you _not wish_ to talk to me. I mean, it’s not anything that has not happened already, but the previous times I could figure out why and this one I really, _really_ cannot,” he spits, and he sees Thor’s back get even more rigid than it was before.

“ _You_ have done nothing,” Thor admits, and now he sounds… tired? “For once,” he adds, and now that sounded vaguely amused, or at least more like _Thor_ , but not enough.

“Well, your _friends_ and Heimdall had informed me of that already, and it has clarified the matter very little. Do please be a bit more forthcoming.”

“I — I cannot do this,” Thor says, shaking his head, and —

Loki’s _done_ , at this point.

“Thor, for — when I said to Thanos’s face that I was willing to die on _your_ side instead of siding with him I figured I would not come back, but if I had known — you can be sure that I did _not_ die for you saying that _you cannot do this_ , whatever _this_ even is!”

He realizes the moment he’s said it that maybe it was a colossally bad notion, but he cannot take it back, can he, and so he can’t take back Thor going completely still against his grip before turning to him, _finally_ , and looking at him in the eyes —

With the face of someone so devastated, Loki almost feels sick.

“That was the entire point, though,” Thor says, his voice rough as if he has spent hours screaming and exhausted his throat. “That you _died_.”

… _What_?

“As I recall, it wouldn’t have been the first time,” Loki says, and _that_ was also wrong, because Thor flinches openly even if he’s still somewhat staring at him, and Loki’s honestly at a loss here. “And — and I had no other choice! Or better, I might’ve had it, if it meant betraying you, and unless you understood poorly, I had no intention to do it. I _have_ no intention to, for that matter. So what, are you going to blame _me_ for it?”

“I was not,” Thor shakes his head. “And I would not. It wasn’t — it was not on you, this time. But the others — Loki, the others you might have faked it, but _both_ times I felt like I could do nothing to prevent it. And after — after Ragnarok, do you think I called for it so easily? Do you _really_ think I relished destroying Asgard? Do you think I _wanted_ to take such a decision? Don’t you think that the one thing I wanted was to come to Earth with all the others and with _you_ and start anew?”

“And as far as I am seeing, not counting the part where we cannot just rebuild Asgard in some empty piece of Midgardian land before we get their approval and we are currently unable to leave this place, that’s _exactly where we are right now_ , so I still fail to see what’s your bloody problem.”

“Loki, for — you weren’t _here_.”

“ _What_?”

“I watched you die _thrice_. The third time was — I _heard_ your neck snap under his fingers. And I was there and I could do nothing and it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t — never mind. I could do _nothing_ and you were _gone_ , for good, after _everyone else_ , and I could do nothing for either of you, and then I could not even avenge either you or _them_ because with all the effort I put into trying to defeat Thanos I could not hit him where it mattered, and then it took us _six months_ to undo it and it certainly was not thanks to _me_ ,” he says, sounding so dejected Loki almost feels like he was punched in the gut instead. “And it happened just after — just after I had assured you all we would find a home on Midgard.”

“… And where are we right now?”

“Loki, can’t you see that just _looking_ at you makes me think of how badly I failed — everyone? _You_ , Heimdall, our people, _everyone_ , and if you’re back it’s not my merit, not most of it, and I can only think of what I got wrong. And — and I have seen you die _thrice_ ,” he says, his voice getting suddenly even smaller. “Most of the times, I cannot even think that you’re here.”

“Are you telling me that you’re _blaming yourself for_ —”

“I am telling you that whether it was my fault or not, I failed you and I survived you all when I should have died with you, and just looking at you makes me think of _that_ and about the other two times I had to watch you die, and that I cannot help it, and I hate every second of it, and it doesn’t matter that now everything has been undone, because I keep thinking that with my usual luck it _cannot last_. That’s what I am telling you.”

Before Loki can break out of his current state of utter speechlessness, Thor sends him another of those _hurt_ glares that he had thought were absolutely alien to his nature, at least —

At least until that time he stabbed Thor on the top of Stark’s tower. At least until _then_.

“Now,” Thor says, “I can see the merit in this… charade, I suppose, which is why I am going to act in it, and I am going to go back to your rehearsal shortly, but I _really_ need a moment, and I would appreciate if you could leave me to have it.”

There are a lot of things Loki could say right now. A _lot_ of them. Starting from _what exactly made him think it was somehow his fault_ , as if _he_ wouldn’t know how much of a foe Thanos was better than anyone else.

“No,” he says, “I couldn’t let you have it, because out of all the misguided, idiotic things that have ever left your mouth since I have memory of you, _that_ was without excuses the most stupid without any danger of being equaled.”

At least _that_ seems to get to Thor enough to make him actually look up and look at him properly for more than five seconds, and now that Loki _finally_ has the attention he realizes that _he_ should probably say something else. Too bad that — this is not how it works. This is not how it’s _supposed_ to work. Thor looking at him like it literally hurts him to for _those_ reasons is just _not how it’s supposed to be at all_ and he hates every second of it.

“You couldn’t do _anything_ on your own. I could do nothing, Banner could do nothing, Heimdall could do nothing, no one thinks you failed them because you couldn’t kill Thanos the moment he showed up. Believe me, _I_ certainly don’t.”

 _If anything, it was one of the times I didn’t fail you, maybe_ , he doesn’t say, and then he realizes that he _should_ , most likely.

Damn, once upon a time he didn’t _need_ to because Thor would know.

He would always know, wouldn’t he?

“And — however it happened, we _are_ back, so there is literally no reason for you to feel guilty about it. For that matter, do you think I went to my death wanting you to join me?”

Fair, that line about the sun shining on them again was in the sense that he had figured it would, in Valhalla, hoping that the sacrifice he was about to make would buy him a place there, but he has a feeling it would be best that he kept it to himself.

Still, that was because he had figured Thanos would eventually get everyone else.

Not because he _wanted_ Thor to join him in death.

Everything _but_ that, honestly.

“No, but I still feel like I should have,” Thor says, and Loki has to tell himself to _not_ look down lest he loses what ground he has gained here — not much, admittedly.

“Well, that’s idiotic of you and as much as it’s worth, I am _not_ about to disappear all over again and I wasn’t intending to keep on doing it.” Honestly, he had enough of it in retrospective, and he _did_ figure things out on Sakaar. He had, for real. “And at this point I also would like to know why you _needed a moment_ just when your friends over there were having a rather serious case of character bleed.”

He sees Thor’s hands flashing blue the moment he says it, _what even_ , and then Thor is looking at him again, _finally_ , sparks flying from his fingers even if Loki is not so sure that he’s doing it on purpose.

“Because while I am utmost happy for _them_ and for the Captain especially, I was momentarily — reminded all over again that they have something I currently do not, and the Captain certainly doesn’t feel like _I_ do when looking at the objects of his affections,” he says, dryly, and some more sparks fly from his hands.

Loki’s throat suddenly goes dry. If Thor means what he thinks he means —

“And what do _you_ feel when looking at the _objects of your affections_?” He asks.

“Halfway like I failed him all over and halfway like I cannot do it all over again because the _fourth_ time would be one too many.”

The first thing Loki wants to reply is, _you could have just bloody said_ , but then he realizes it wouldn’t do any good and it would be unfair because after all he _has_ put Thor through unnecessary turmoil since — since he found out about his ancestry, hasn’t he, and he hasn’t quite realized how much of a toll it would take on him, and maybe years ago he’d have reveled in it because _wasn’t that what he wanted_ , but —

Maybe it was. But now —

“You haven’t,” Loki says. “Failed anyone, I mean. At most, our father failed the both of us. I’d know that now. And I have been — extremely unfair to you, I think. I cannot take it back now, it would be ridiculous, but if it means anything to you, I am not planning on any _fourth time_ happening.”

“You’ve been —”

“I have. Don’t — don’t try to excuse it. I had not fully understood it until you put me in front of it in that elevator. I thought it was everything I wanted, _before_ , and then I realized it was not, and I still could not admit it to myself at once.” He doesn’t want to have this conversation, he had hoped he could avoid it, but he cannot, and maybe he owes Thor _that_ , at least. “I came back because I realized that I didn’t want to run anymore. I still don’t. And believe me, when — when I woke up _here_ , I wasn’t planning on doing that either.” He takes a breath, then two, then moves closer, and Thor’s hands are sizzling with electricity so much that his skin tingles when they’re not even touching anymore. Then he decides he might as well go for it and hope Thor just bloody _gets_ it.

“ _I would not wish any companion in the world but you, nor can imagination form a shape, besides yourself, to like of_ ,” he says, clearly, slowly, making sure every damned word is stressed out, and for a moment Thor’s lone blue eye is bearing into his with such a hopeful look that it’s almost _too much_ —

“ _I chose you when I could not ask my father for his advice, nor thought I had one_ ,” Thor replies, and — wait a bloody moment, that’s not the following line, that’s farther down, _very much_ , and it’s when — oh.

 _When Ferdinand has to justify having married Miranda to his father_ , and it wasn’t _you_ , it was —

“You really did read that script, didn’t you?” Loki can’t help blurting, even if now _he_ is asking the dumbest question in history of dumb questions, and he still can’t avoid doing that —

“Do you think I wouldn’t have wondered why you would choose it?” Thor asks, his voice suddenly becoming softer even if his hands are properly sizzling now. “Of course I did. I couldn’t guess if I hadn’t read it now, could I?”

Well.

If he _did_ —

“ _It would become me as well as it does you: and I should do it with much more ease; for my good will is to it, and yours it is against_ ,” he replies, and he sees Thor’s eye go slightly wider, and he hopes Thor _gets it_ , because right now he can’t say it in any other way —

Thor holds a hand out, blue sparks still covering his palm, looking _somewhat_ hopeful but guarded, too —

“ _With a heart as willing as bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand_ ,” he says, and Loki can’t even think that it’s unfair he’s good at _both_ roles he’s acted until now, because he has to finish this, and he cannot waste any more time than they have already.

“ _And mine, with my heart in’t_ ,” he says, placing his hand into Thor’s, _entirely_ waiting for the electricity to give his entire arm a shock, and it _does_ , except that it doesn’t matter because a moment later Thor drags him forward and he’s pressed him up against the wall in the corner and good thing that it’s dark because otherwise they’d be in plain sight.

And _then_ he realizes that Thor’s _entire chest_ is sizzling under that t-shirt.

He’s not keeping it under control, _is he_ , and of course he wouldn’t, not if he can’t handle how he’s feeling right now and —

Maybe he has to take the initiative for once, and so he moves his own hands to Thor’s face, less roughly than he’d have once upon a time, and he drags his head slightly downwards with their mouths meeting halfway, and one moment literal sparks make him move back but then Thor’s leaning down and kissing him again and _oh, finally_ , this is exactly like how it used to be except faster and less refined and rougher and last time Thor had long hair and Loki’s tongue wasn’t licking blue wisps off Thor’s as he groaned into his mouth, and they were wearing proper garb and not these ridiculous Midgardian clothing, but it doesn’t matter because _finally_ one thing is going as it should and the way he had been hoping since realizing where he went wrong, and Thor’s pressing him up against the wall and kissing him as if his own damned life depended on it and Loki doesn’t even care that he’s going to have to explain electricity scars on his neck later.

“I meant it,” he breathes when they part, and Thor’s eye looks so blue in the darkness that it’s almost blinding, but of course it would, and —

“I always meant it, too,” he says, strangled, and then one of his hands hits the wall as Loki shuts him up with his mouth, again —

And then he has to stop because of a way stronger jolt turning the wall hot as fire behind him, and a moment later he sees blue lightening running through the theater’s electricity lines and then all lights go off at once.

What —

“… I will have to apologize,” Thor says, sheepishly.

“Thor, have you just about fried the entire electrical system when this place is made mostly of vibranium and runs on _self-sustained solar energy_?” Loki asks. Hey, he _did_ study the architecture of the place. Any director worth his salt would.

“What if I did?” He replies, but Loki thinks he can feel him smile thinly against his lips and he doesn’t want to jeopardize it.

“I say they most likely will repair it soon, but we certainly cannot rehearse if everything is dark.”

“Does that mean you would like to wait here until it is?”

“What if I did?” He says, and a moment later Thor’s mouth is on his again and Loki doesn’t want to presume that they fixed everything, because surely they have _not_ , but —

But maybe now they can actually start, and it has been three months too many.

He was looking forward to it after Ragnarok. He decides he’s _not_ going to waste time now, and if it means acknowledging things he rather would not have, well, dying without knowing you had planned it certainly does change one’s ways.

Oh, he cannot wait, but for now he will be content with stealing some time for _this_ before the light inevitably comes back.

_For now._

_——_

“You had _nothing_ to do with that short-circuit,” Stark immediately says as they walk back into the theater later, after the electricity is restored.

“Of course _not_ ,” Loki says. Well, he’s _not_ lying, it wasn’t… his fault, technically.

Thor says nothing and Stark, after taking a good look at the two of them, raises his palms in what Loki assumes is defeat.

“You know what,” he says, “I’m not even asking. Now, I think those two have rehearsed this scene long enough that _they_ might be tired of kissing each other —”

“Never!” Barnes shouts from the stage.

“Okay, fine, they aren’t, but _maybe_ we should move on now, shouldn’t we?”

“Fair,” Loki agrees. “Thor, would you mind getting over there and get ready for — scene two? Korg, M’Baku, you two as well, thank you.”

“Got it, boss!” Korg says cheerfully as he heads backstage.

“We’re talking _later_ ,” Loki hisses before Thor nods at him and follows them both, but he looks less weary as he walks away from him.

Right. Good enough, he figures. And when, _after_ , he actually _does_ act the next scene like it’s comical and not uttermost serious, he figures that it’s going way better than he’d have imagined. Given that Heimdall is looking at him in _approval_ rather than scorn, he supposes that’s pretty much confirmed.

Great.

Now they just have to get through Act Three and he can worry about the rest tomorrow, _after_ he talks to Thor and _after_ they figure this out once and for all, because as nice as their moment in the hallway was, he knows he won’t escape talking about it, and he hates the prospect, but he hates the idea of spending another day like the previous three months _more_ , so fine.

They’ll talk.

That is, if these Midgardians don’t make him do something _very_ stupid before the day is over, and given that tomorrow they should rehearse the act with the _wedding_ , he’s fairly sure that if it’s not today, it’ll be tomorrow.

But maybe he should try being optimist, for once.

——

At the end of _that_ day, to be truthful, he can say it wasn’t _too_ bad. Then again, his scene in Act Three is with Wilson, Romanoff, T’Challa and Banner, as in, the _sane_ people in this group, so at least he can’t complain about _that_.

The _wedding_ tomorrow, though —

He’s _not_ going to think about the Act Four wedding.

He’s going to wait until Thor gets to his room, then he’ll take ten minutes to pull himself together and his thoughts in order and go knock on his damned door.

“I hope you plan on _talking_ to him further,” Heimdall suddenly says as he appears behind his shoulders just while he was locking up the theater.

“What the — of course I do. Are you here to tell me to not fuck it up? Because I can’t guarantee that,” he says, hoping that it’s not the case.

“I have no doubts concerning this specific matter,” Heimdall says, “but given how your _previous_ talk might have gone, I think it’s not such a likely chance. _However_ , if you should try to betray him _again_ , it would be the last time you get to do it.”

Loki feels a shiver run down his spine, and not many people are capable of causing that effect on him. “Wait, do you _know_ —”

“Have you forgotten that I can _see_ everything, Loki? Have a pleasurable evening,” he says, and then disappears into the street.

Loki is so _not_ going to think of how Heimdall most likely knows that they made out until the electricity went off and even later. Instead, he’ll just be glad that for once he has some endorsement on _that_ side and hurry up to go back to the castle instead.

——

Before going to Thor’s room, he quickly replies that they’ll discuss tomorrow to some _five_ texts Quill sent him about needing to stage the _wedding_ — why did he ever tell the man that he could handle _anything_ in this production? He doesn’t know but he shouldn’t have.

Then he shuts off all of his comms and heads for Thor’s room.

It’s probably telling that for once the door opens before he can just teleport himself on the other side in case Thor decided to not answer him, but it’s a _good_ thing, he supposes.

He walks inside the room and closes it, to find Thor sitting on the bed in his Midgardian clothes from before. He hasn’t put the fake eye back in its place, but he is wearing the patch.

He closes the door.

He thinks for a moment about what he should say, then decides that there’s no point in sugarcoating this.

“So,” he says, “did you seriously avoid me and about everyone else bar Heimdall and some of your Midgardian friends for three months because you felt guilty about _failing me_?”

“What if I did?” Thor replies, and has Loki ever heard him sound more _tired_?

He should say, _you’re completely wrong_.

Except that this once — he just can’t bring himself to do it.

He shakes his head, dropping down on the bed, close enough that they could touch by moving just slightly, but not doing it yet.

“I — I imagine you would have your reasons.” _And it’s my fault for a good part of them, I’m afraid_ , he has to admit, as much as he would like not to.

“Are you agreeing with me twice in a row? Now _that_ is interesting.”

At least he sounded amused, Loki thinks. Better than _before_.

“Don’t get adjusted to it,” he says, but it lacks bite. It’s obvious he doesn’t mean it. He has a feeling the both of them are just tired of their antics of the last… few years, he supposes. “But I might be.”

Thor says nothing for a long moment, then he shakes his head and for a moment Loki misses the long hair. But _that_ grows back, at least.

“I said everything I had to this afternoon,” he finally says, looking down at his wrists. “You know everything there is to know. I — I did not mean to give you the impression I was _avoiding_ you, but I also do not think I can do — _this_ another time. Not losing my people, not losing Asgard and not losing _you_.”

“What if I say it is not happening?”

“I would answer that it is a beautiful notion to entertain, but you will excuse me if it does not look _too_ likely, right now.”

All right. _That_ is fair, Loki supposes.

“I understand,” he sighs. “And do you have any suggestion on what might change your mind about this circumstance?”

“Other than, I don’t know, no threat suddenly appearing into my life and turning it upside down for the next few _Asgardian_ years?”

Loki is honestly happy that _at least_ he doesn’t sound like he’s wholly serious, or he would be plenty more worried here.

“Other than _that_ , because I don’t think it’s very likely,” Loki agrees.

“Putting that aside, I guess —” Thor stops, shakes his head and then turns to look at him, that one blue eye staring into his with such intensity he’s tempted to look down, but — no. He shouldn’t. He has to at least hold his stare if he wants this to work. “I know that it would be foolish to assume that if we are free to rebuild Asgard and settle again it might be the end of… this. I cannot work on the assumption that there won’t be another Thanos. But I cannot go on thinking I might see you die in front of me a fourth time _or_ , worse, thinking you might have lived but never knowing for sure.”

Loki has never regretted his stint to take his father’s place more than now — he has a feeling that second time he let Thor believe he was dead has been a catastrophically bad idea, looking at the consequences.

But then, he wasn’t ready to admit to himself a few things he should have a long time ago.

“And I imagine swearing it all over again would not be useful when I lied to you that many times, would it?”

“It might help,” Thor agrees, which Loki had _not_ expected, “but — Loki, if it wasn’t clear, I _did_ believe you when you said the third time was not… _planned_. I would rather hear that if we end up in that situation all over again you _won’t_ do anything that might get you killed where I can see it. Not that I am not grateful that you sacrificed yourself for the cause, but I cannot watch it again. I _cannot_.”

He sounds like he’s about to cry.

“Two things,” he sighs, because he thinks he has to say them. “First, I didn’t do it for the cause. I did it for _you_.”

“What —”

“I _did_ , Thor. And the second one is, fair, but… I didn’t give up the Tesseract because I felt like it. I did it because he was killing _you_ and — I think I should admit that you are most likely a stronger person than I am.”

“Wait, _how_?”

“Because you could handle seeing me die thrice, I couldn’t handle it _once_ ,” he admits, forcing himself to keep eye contact. “Why do you think I did it? I couldn’t watch you die in front of me. I can promise you that I won’t do it again and try to keep it if it will make you feel any better, but you know now. And I care relatively little for _the cause_ , as it is.”

“You make it really hard to maintain one’s resolves, you know?” Thor asks, his voice turning softer.

“… Excuse me?”

“Never mind,” Thor shakes his head, moving closer. “Can you swear to me that whatever happens from now on you _will_ actively try to _not_ make me witness your death all over again?”

“I feel like I would be a hypocrite if I said, _only if you do the same_ ,” he answers, moving slightly closer. Thor’s hand flashes blue for a moment.

“I would,” Thor says at once.

“It would still be unfair to ask it of you.”

“I would regardless,” he says, and that traitorous thought surges again — _what if you had realized that he truly cared for you when you should have?_

Well.

He will never know now, will he?

“Then yes,” Loki says. “I would. Now — now we will stage that play _if_ your Midgardian friends avoid being the death of me before the time comes, we _will_ hopefully be cleared to reclaim somewhere to rebuild Asgard and we will hopefully _not_ have to test our promises all over again, if you are in agreement.”

“I did accept to star in it, didn’t I?” Thor replies, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

“Good. Will you also stop avoiding me?”

“I never wanted to in the first place.”

“I was going to ask if it wouldn’t have been easier to talk to me about it, but I recognize it would sound majorly hypocritical of me, so I will not.”

“Thank you,” Thor replies, sounding actually — like he’s about to laugh, or at least the closest to it than he’s gotten until now. “And I was going to tell you that you don’t have to go back to your room tonight if you don’t want to, but if you’d rather not —”

Loki doesn’t even let him finish before he puts both hands on his face and kisses him, and patience if he feels them tingle with electricity the moment Thor kisses back.

He thinks he’s learning to like it, and even if that’s all they do for now, _well_ , at least it’s a step in the damned right direction.

He’ll die before telling anyone that the previous three months are something he never wants to go through again, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

——

He wakes up the next morning with his head in the crook of Thor’s neck and their clothes absolutely ruined as they slept without even taking them off, and it would have been a pretty nice way if it wasn’t because Thor’s comm is beeping so loudly Loki’s head is about to explode.

“What —” Thor says, immediately turning his bracelet on. “Bruce?”

Banner’s face is staring down at him and Loki doesn’t like his look.

“Uh, hi,” he says, looking as if he has understood what’s going on here. “Listen, is Loki there?”

“What if he is?”

“Er, there’s news about the play, so he should come here in the meeting room like, now. Actually, you both should. As soon as possible. Sorry to disturb, but —”

“It is fine,” Thor cuts him. “We will be downstairs soon.”

Well, here go his hopes of doing some more _talking_ in the morning and try to assess the situation any further. He groans and runs a hand on his shirt, straightening it, and dares hope that nothing horrible happened like the whole set crumbling on itself.

——

“… Banner, what did you just say?” Loki groans, hoping he understood wrong.

“That Shuri has all the permissions and so on, but obviously she had to bargain with I don’t know how many platforms and streaming websites to find a good day to air the play, and apparently the only one they could all agree on is… ten days from now.”

Loki just _stares_ at him for a long, long moment. “Are you telling me that we still have to rehearse act four and five from scratch and that we have to _perform_ this ten days from _now_ when we don’t even have the costumes ready?”

“Excuse me,” Gamora says, immediately standing up, “we’re at a good point and if we put some effort into it, I’m sure we can be done in four days.”

… At least they’re efficient, he thinks. “All right. Are you _sure_?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” She asks, not looking particularly impressed with him, her hand on her hip where that blade is still resting.

All right. He’s going to take this at face value.

“Stark, are the sets ready?”

“Who do you take me for? Bar some minor adjustments, I’m good to go.”

All right. _Maybe_ he has to admit that the man can be efficient as well. And he _has_ seen the sets before, they were pretty much done as far as he could notice.

“Very well. Is there anyone who _still_ doesn’t know the part?”

No one says they don’t — Wilson says that he probably might need revising it a bit but he thinks he has it down, everyone else swears they _do_ have it down and he figures that it has to be good enough. Good thing that _he_ doesn’t need to revise his own.

“Fine. Then, since we _still_ need to rehearse _two_ acts and today’s is the worst one, this is how it will go. _Everyone_ acting in this but His Majesty and the princess in case she’s needed can head for the theater _now_ and we’re not leaving it if we haven’t rehearsed it properly for at least eight hours per day or we’ll _never_ manage to do this halfway properly. The costume department is of course excused — ladies, Parker, you can work on that and bring the costumes directly to the theater when you’re done. Quill can join you _after_ today, because since _he_ had ideas for the wedding songs and he has to be in it with you,” he nods towards the other Guardians, “I need him there.”

“Man, it’s going to be a kickass wedding,” Quill grins _way_ too brightly.

“I don’t doubt that,” Loki says, while in truth he doubts it _entirely._ “Strange, I’m afraid you will have to be there because _you_ have to do the effects.”

The sorcerer shrugs as his cloak does the exact same thing, _separately_. “I was starting to ask myself _when_ you were going to need my humble services,” he says, and while Loki thinks his tone is insufferable and he’s still not over that time he let him fall for half an hour, he’ll let bygones be bygones.

“Very well. Then _let’s get a move on_ , because there is no other way we’ll be ready in ten days. And someone find me some wood so Rogers can break it during the next Act Three rehearsal.”

Rogers goes red in the face and Loki just wishes today won’t go as terribly as it could.

——

Four hours later, he’s questioning _all_ of his life choices at least when it comes to this one specific play.

If anything, because while this _Turn! Turn! Turn!_ song that Quill decided to swap for the spirits’s songs is the least terrible of the entire bunch of the man’s picks, _he_ is the only one out of the Guardians who can carry a tune. The raccoon is absolutely tone deaf, Drax is _worse_ and the tree, other than being tone deaf, only says _I am Groot_ instead of the actual words. Given that both Rogers and Barnes find it highly amusing and can’t stop laughing he decides to incorporate it into the whole thing and tells them to kiss while they do it so at least it sounds like they’re doing it out of happiness.

Other than that, coordinating the entire thing takes _that_ long because none of them has a clue of how to move on a stage nor to how avoid breaking parts of the set, and the fact that both the princess and Heimdall spend the time snorting at his antics is not helping whatsoever.

At least Rogers and Barnes are _not_ laughing at _that_.

The fact that Rogers decides he likes that song and starts asking Quill music advice is _not_ a good thing, though. The last thing he needs is _someone else_ pressing for more songs from the _Seventies_ in the soundtrack, whatever the damned Seventies are in the first place.

——

 _Ten_ hours later, he sends everyone home after having _at least_ rehearsed act four, and the fact that Strange took pity on him by doing everything he was asking for _without_ being insufferable about it says about everything there is to say about how it went.

He only hopes that people will at least be entertained by all the shapeshifting he had to go through during _his_ parts, but since he has a feeling it’s the _one_ thing about this play that he can honestly act the way it would be _ideally_ supposed to, he will try to do that to avoid feeling too guilty about everything else he’s compromising about.

“Don’t look that gloomy,” Strange tells him as everyone else leaves.

“ _Seriously_?”

“Have you read the man’s comedies? He would have _absolutely_ been into that wedding. Don’t sweat it too much, it’s not _so_ sacred.”

Then he makes a portal and disappears into it.

Loki cannot even complain about it, since it’s not anything _he_ hasn’t ever done before, right?

“Traitors,” he tells both Thor and Heimdall as they approach him.

“You hurt me,” Heimdall deadpans, and he so obviously _doesn’t_ mean it, Loki doesn’t even bother responding.

“As if. Next time help me out.”

“Why’s that? _You_ are the director. And that wedding was certainly amusing.”

He’s gone a moment later and Loki doesn’t know how he’s going to survive the next nine days.

“I should hope _I_ did not cause you too many troubles?” Thor asks from his side, and Loki is too relieved to hear that he’s making fun of him to even consider responding with the insults Thor would deserve.

“ _You_ are one of the three people who isn’t,” Loki sighs. “And the fact that you actually can act while half of them can’t isn’t helping out _too_ much.”

“Should I get worried about all these compliments you’re throwing my way or not?”

The fact that he’s joking doesn’t make it _less_ of a hurtful question, though.

Or better, years ago it _would_ have been flattering, and he would have wanted Thor to doubt, most likely, and he’d have reveled in knowing that maybe he wised up enough to consider that he _should_ be worried —

But now? Now he really, _really_ wishes Thor never asked such a thing.

“Do _not_ ,” Loki says. “I need to eat. And I need to sleep.”

“You _are_ aware that Valkyrie did save some Asgardian mead and that I’ve had it for a long, long while?”

“ _Why_ didn’t you tell me first thing?” Loki groans, wishing that everyone else would just leave the theater already so he can close this damned door and leave already.

He can worry about act five tomorrow.

——

When he finally walks into Thor’s room, a while later, after locking everything up and forcing himself to answer Quill’s texts before the man ends up sending him _more_ while he has better things to think of, Thor has taken a shower and changed into some Midgardian attire again. Loki stops in his tracks as he actually takes notice of _what_ is on that shirt.

“Well?” Thor asks, placing a couple of glasses on the small table in the center of the room.

“Are you _really_ wearing… _that_?”

Thor glances down at the soft gray shirt with short sleeves and admittedly shows off his neckline, except that it has _Steve Rogers’s_ face on it staring up from behind that shield of his.

“Why not?” Thor says. “Stark apparently ordered it for me a few days ago and I received it this morning. He said it was to _welcome me back to the land of the living_ , and while he didn’t explain himself, it was a nice thought. Besides, it’s comfortable.”

“I suppose it is,” Loki grudgingly admits.

“If you want one as well —” Thor starts.

“ _Maybe not_ ,” Loki interrupts him at once, before he notices _how_ Thor is looking at him. “… Hilarious, Thor, _hilarious_. So, that mead? Because I _really_ think I need some.”

“One moment.” Thor heads for a small cupboard in the corner of his room (which looks _way_ less lived-in than Loki’s, when Thor used to be the messiest in between the two of them), opens it and grabs a small flask from within. He moves back to the table where those two glasses are placed.

“This is the last,” Thor warns him. “Maybe we will able to make some more if — _if_ this works out, but I would savor it.”

“I should hope we _at least_ manage to make more mead,” Loki says as Thor pours the mead into both glasses. The flask is still half-full when he puts it away. Loki wraps his fingers around the glass, lifting it up as Thor does the same.

“So,” Thor says, “should we toast to a successful rehearsal tomorrow?”

“Toast to successful rehearsals _all around._ ” He clinks their glasses together, then takes a sip, and if you had told him, a few years ago, that he would _wish_ to be back in Asgard the way they used to be _before_ Thor’s coronation (or lack thereof) he wouldn’t have believed you.

Except that as the sweet taste hits the back of his mouth he feels such a strong pang of nostalgia that he just hopes it didn’t show on his face.

“I know,” Thor says after he drinks his fill.

“Don’t say it,” Loki says, knocking back the last of it.

“… Didn’t I say that we should make it last?”

“Why, did you actually think that we _would_?”

Thor stares at him, then knocks back his entire glass as well and refills both, and _now_ it’s really finished. Loki is somewhat sad that it’s nowhere near enough to feel _halfway_ drunk, it would take bottles of the thing to actually work on either of them, but it’s been so long since he had any, _maybe_ there’s half a chance that it’s working regardless, especially given the warmth he’s feeling spread through his stomach.

“Fair,” he says, taking another sip. “I never was much for drinking slowly, anyway.”

“That you weren’t,” Loki agrees, drinking some more. “Maybe I _should_ have tried to bring some when I went into the vault.”

“That would have been a good idea,” Thor agrees, “but I suppose we will have to set for trying again. If —”

“ _When_ ,” Loki says, but it doesn’t sound too convinced and he can see that Thor heard it.

“Loki, not to advise you at something that is more your thing than mine, but you _do_ realize that if _you_ don’t have some faith in the outcome of this whole matter, then no one else will?”

“… All right,” Loki concedes, “ _fine_ , that’s true, but you do realize that with the current premises we only have to hope Midgardians watch it and decide that there is no way anyone involved with this play would pose a danger, don’t you?”

Thor shrugs. “That would do the job, though, wouldn’t it?”

… All right, it _would_.

“Fine,” Loki agrees, “I can give you that. And at least _you_ can act.” He finishes his drink, feeling the taste all over the back of his throat again.

“Should I get adjusted to all this praise or shouldn’t I?” Thor does sound vastly amused now, and Loki just wishes that he didn’t feel a pang of guilt in his stomach every time something along those lines leaves Thor’s mouth.

The fact that he legitimately didn’t talk to him for months because he thought —

He puts the glass back on the table, maybe a bit more strongly than it would have been required. Thor knocks back the last of his drink, leaves the glass next to his and looks back down at him, and Loki wishes that shirt didn’t leave him with bare arms because right now it’s highly distracting.

“Am I wrong or are you, as Midgardians like to put it, _enjoying the view_?”

“What if I am?” Loki doesn’t even try to deny it.

Thor’s hands flash blue for a moment as his eyes turn very, very serious, and meet his all over again. “No one said you cannot do that.”

This is _not_ the backstage, this is not even whatever they did the previous night. And they aren’t even drunk for real, and _this_ hasn’t happened in a long, long time, either, but as his hands touch Thor’s bare forearm, feeling electricity thrum under his palm, his throat goes dry at once, and suddenly he doesn’t know if he wants Thor to take off that ridiculous shirt or keep it because it fits him in ways it shouldn’t have the right to, so he just moves his hands under it instead, finding Thor’s hips and dragging him forward, and the moment Thor bends down and their lips meet he feels a literal spark, but before Thor can lean back, he shakes his head and kisses him harder, figuring that he won’t mind if it happens.

Honest, the moment Thor had dropped down on that bridge _brimming_ with it, blue lightening coming from his hands and his entire body, Loki might have _thought_ things, that they could never talk about because then Thanos came, but now they can, or maybe they don’t even need to discuss it, not when Thor has solved Loki’s problems with his clothing for him and discarded the t-shirt before pressing him against the side of the bed.

Loki’s fingers roam along his chest, feeling the muscles underneath, just as Thor moves on top of him and presses him against the soft, soft mattress (the Wakandians surely treat their guests properly), and the moment Loki’s hands are covering Thor’s shoulders and pushing _down_ , a spark flies across his palm just as Thor groans into his mouth and his tongue meets Loki’s, and it’s _exactly_ as he remembered except slightly different because Thor’s tasted of mead a lot of times when they kissed, but his lips never let small sparks of electricity flow against his, and it feels —

It feels _good_ , in ways Loki hadn’t thought it could.

He’s also entirely too overdressed, he decides, but a moment later he arches up on the bed as Thor’s fingers move to his shirt’s buttons and —

Tear them open?

“I liked that shirt,” he protests, but his heart isn’t in it.

“Well, I am sure our hosts will be glad to find you another,” Thor replies, before moving back and taking a look at him. He says nothing for maybe too long, especially given the fact that he just _tore Loki’s shirt and flung it to the side_ , and his fingers are still letting out tiny blue sparks all over, but Loki can barely feel them now.

Not when Thor’s one eye is staring into his with enough intensity for _ten_ , and Loki doesn’t move as his palm moves up to his cheek.

“I suppose they will,” he says when the silence has turned _too much_. “Any reason why we’re not, well, _doing this_?”

Thor shakes his head, lightly. “I just — since Thanos, I didn’t think there would be another chance — ”

“And you still didn’t talk to me for three months?”

“I never said it was the smartest way of dealing with it.”

 _Except that I have some responsibility, too, don’t I_?

Loki shakes his head, grabs the sides of his head and drags him _down_ , their mouths crushing against each other, letting his legs hook behind Thor’s knees, hoping that he understands that he doesn’t want to waste any more time. Thor groans into his mouth in a way that almost feels as if he’s relieved, and Loki should probably think about it some more as soon as he has time to do _that_ , because right now he just wants to put his hand on Thor’s ridiculous Midgardian trousers and get them off him, regardless of how well they fit his legs, and so he does as Thor gets rid of his belt and they both kick their own shoes off. He feels _vaguely_ tipsy, admittedly, but it’s not the bad kind of, and he moans when Thor reaches down and grasps at his hair, tugging on it as he drags Loki upward, and Loki bites down on his lip just before they move apart enough to finally shrug off the last pieces of clothing they have on themselves.

Thor throws his own trousers in the vague direction of his shirt while Loki drops them on the other side of the bed, and then Thor’s back to looking at him and for one moment he stops, his breath catching in his his throat, and Loki isn’t sure he wants to know what he’s thinking of.

“I think,” Loki says, “that you’ve forgotten something.”

“I forgot nothing,” Thor replies, and then Loki shakes his head, moves closer and pulls away the patch over Thor’s right eye, throwing it to the side. There’s nothing behind there, of course there isn’t, but he knew there wouldn’t be, and something tells him that he doesn’t really want anything in between them right now even if it’s just that idiotic piece of cloth.

“Maybe you did,” Loki says then, and a moment later Thor has pushed him back against the mattress, completely on top of him, and his mouth is on Loki’s in a bruising kiss that Loki would have gladly enjoyed dragging on, but it doesn’t happen because then Thor has moved on to his neck, and Loki doesn’t try to _not_ make noise as he feels teeth on his skin. _Yes_ , he groans as Thor bites down on it, _hard_ , it’s not as if it’ll break, and if tomorrow others will see it, well, _who cares_. He can make it disappear it if it’s not gone by the time they have to act. But for now — for now he doesn’t _want_ to, and then a moment later an electric jolt runs through his arm and Thor leans back —

“Do _not_ ,” Loki says.

“But —”

“Thor, _that_ won’t be what hurts me, and right now I _really_ want you to, so how about you do _not_?”

Thor looks down at him for a moment, and Loki has a distinct feeling that somehow he might have _one_ eye but it’s worth enough for ten given the intensity of his stare, and then —

Twin bolts of lighting go through his arms at the same time as Thor’s hands nail his wrists to the bed, and he arches on the mattress, but it feels _good_ , so he doesn’t tell Thor to stop, and Thor does it _again_ as he leans down and kisses him, crashing on top of him, but it’s _fine_ , Loki’s not going to break for _that_ either, and he just wishes Thor would move those hands somewhere else.

He groans the moment Thor’s erection presses against his leg, feeling that he’s _hard_ , and they haven’t done this in so long but right now he’s recalling exactly everything about the last few times it happened and he thinks he can’t do this slow. Not _now_.

“Are you stalling?” He protests as Thor’s teeth drag across his shoulder.

“I am _not_.” Thor is obviously pretending to be outraged, but then one of his hands reaches down and wraps around Loki’s length, only little bursts leaving his fingertips, but the moment he starts stroking him slow but with intent Loki about moans into his mouth, and if his tongue wasn’t occupied finding Thor’s he would urge him to go faster, but apparently Thor doesn’t need to be told and _does_ , and Loki decides that while _this_ had obviously never happened before, well, _now_ he’s entirely on board with it. He manages to say _more_ a few more times while he can feel Thor’s erection finding friction against his thigh, and _oh_ , he’s hard, too, and _plenty_ , and —

“I think,” Loki moans, tearing his mouth away from Thor’s, “that this might — get _better_ if it’s not just your _hand,_ Thor.”

“Oh,” Thor says, “so you won’t even let me take my time?”

“You can take your time later,” Loki pushes, and groans when a moment later Thor tears his hand away from his erection, coats it in spit and shoves a couple of fingers inside him right after he opens his legs knowing he was about ready to do it. It — could have hurt worse, and Loki is entirely too happy when a few sparks let loose as Thor moves his fingers away, and then inside him again, and again. He spits on them another time, then shoves in three as Loki’s legs wrap around his back, and honestly, he _could_ make the entire process easier for him if he shifted, but he thinks he wants it like _this_ now, Thor can take his time… in a while, but now he _needs_ him to just _do it_ , and when Thor finally stops stalling, spits on his palm and _finally_ is inside him with one frantic, fast push, burying himself inside him, and —

For a moment it’s the exact same thing as it used to be years ago, the two of them on a bed, with no one else outside, just Thor above him fucking into him either slower or faster or gentler or rougher, depending on the mood, but then it’s _different_ because his skin is tingling with blue electricity everywhere, and Thor’s looking at him like he’s going to cry, but before Loki can tell him to please _not_ , he buries his head in Loki’s shoulders before he starts thrusting in — Loki’s hands move to the back of his head, running through his short hair (which is slightly longer now but still _short_ ), realizing he’s not tugging or pushing as he used to do when Thor’s hair was long, and when he does the shocks become slightly stronger and _oh_ , it hurts, slightly, but nowhere near enough to be serious, and so he moves his other hair to Thor’s back, grabbing tight, saying all over to just _go ahead with it_ , until everything isn’t pain anymore and he’s just thrumming with pleasure all over as he comes right at the same time Thor does with one last, deep trust, burying himself inside Loki, and oh —

 _Oh,_ he can admit to himself now — he missed Thor, he missed this, he missed _them_ , and if he thinks that they could have been doing this for months

( _fine, fine, for years, if only he hadn’t —_ )

he wants to chastise himself, he _does_ , but that’s not how he deals with anything and he won’t start now, and so he waits until Thor’s completely spent inside him and _he_ is completely spent against his stomach, and when Thor asks if he should move he says that he absolutely should _not_ and he’s going to be ready for another round in a moment, and when he feels a tingle at the back of his neck he sighs, deciding that yes, fine, maybe getting over himself _has_ been a good idea.

Maybe he should have done it sooner.

Maybe he will see to make up for it.

Later. For now, he’s just going to hope Thor wants to make this _last_ , because once before they go to sleep won’t be enough.

Not nearly.

——

As it is, it’s not once.

After the fourth time, they’re both completely exhausted and it’s four in the morning and Loki did tell the others to be up early, so there’s no fifth time, but as Loki finally lets himself sleep with Thor’s arm around his waist he decides that he’s _not_ willing to give this up again.

——

The next morning, he _absolutely_ regrets having stayed up that long when he gets a call from Banner about ten minutes before he’s supposed to be in the theater — _they’re_ supposed to be in the theater.

 _Damn it_. He tells Banner that they’ll be there in a moment, then realized they will never be there in ten minutes.

He sighs.

 _Heimdall_ , he projects, knowing that the bastard is listening.

 _Did you have a good night_? Loki can _hear_ the smugness in his tone.

He sighs. _Can you get them started while we get there_?

 _You will owe me_ , Heimdall says, but doesn’t refuse. Of course, he also doesn’t offer them a passage straight to the theater.

He wakes Thor up and resolutely does _not_ think about what he’s going to _owe_ Heimdall, wishing he could teleport on his own but he could on _Asgard_ , not _here_.

Well.

Time to see if Act Five is a complete disaster or not.

——

Act Five's rehearsal ends up being _less_ terrible than he had thought it would come out, mostly because it only includes _one_ song that is… _not_ as terrible, even if Loki doesn’t want to know if he wants to ask Quill what has this _If I Had a Hammer_ in common with that poor final song of Ariel’s, but at least he can have it played in the background. He’s _not_ singing Midgardian music, damn it.

But at least everyone knows their role, Wilson doesn’t need to be given hints, Stark’s sets are indeed perfect and he has to grudgingly admit it, everyone does indeed know the part and if only this entire thing didn’t sound like a farce _all the time_ except when _he and Thor_ are on stage (and possibly when T’Challa is, because _he_ can act, thankfully) maybe he would be happier about it, but there’s nothing much he can do in ten days if not spin it as if it’s a deliberate choice and hope that people will find it _amusing_ , at least.

If they ever get to rebuild Asgard, he’ll do everything in his power to make sure that they can make proper mead again, because after the taste he got yesterday, he thinks he _will_ need a lot of it just thinking about these damned rehearsals.

——

The costumes are delivered exactly five days after they knew the date.

Or better: Gamora, Nebula, Quill and Parker show up with loaded boxes full of clothes and hold up the entire cast for two hours in order to make modifications and the likes, then they disappear backstage and come back with all adjustment made while Loki tries to rehearse Act One to Three in one round only.

He does manage, _barely_ , and then they finally show off what they ended up making — Loki had left Gamora in charge of it after telling her what he had vaguely in mind for the clothing, hoping that she could be reliable.

Thankfully she was.

They _did_ follow the instructions to the letter for Shuri’s costume — he asked them to model it after that green dress of his mother’s and there it is, withe skirt in three shades of green and that golden armor plate. The princess looks delighted at the choice.

“This is _great_ ,” she declares. “Can I keep it after?”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Loki shrugs.

“Uhm,” Rogers says, holding up the clothes Nebula just dropped in his hands, “is this —”

“It is,” Thor interrupts him. He looks _delighted_ at Loki having chosen to put him in a black and red outfit (of course torn and battered) that resembles Thor’s old favorite indoors clothing back in the day and that he most likely had worn under his armor time and time again.

“But —”

“I am sure you will look great in it,” Thor keeps on, and Rogers just accepts it without complaining any further.

“Are you _serious_?” Barnes asks instead, holding up a silver dress with horizontal stripes and a black and red mantle with sleeves.

“You’re playing a _woman_ , unless you forgot.”

“Shuri got a dress.”

“Well, I imagined you would look great in one and the captain does as well, from the way he’s looking at you,” Loki says, leaving Barnes sputtering as Rogers blushes red. At least _that_ went as he hoped.

As far as the rest are concerned… Thor isn’t wearing anything except for a couple of ripped trousers so at least _that_ didn’t require effort, Romanoff’s costume that he asked them to model after Sif’s old one except red and black fits her perfectly, T’Challa _does_ look very royal in a near replica of his father’s old outfit, and Heimdall _does_ look mildly amused at seeing that Banner got a green version of those leather trousers and mantle he was wearing when they left Asgard for the last time. M’Baku has an armor that _does_ look enough like Volstagg’s, for what they could do, Korg’s is more like Hogun’s even if with… well, _modifications_ , and Wilson’s like Fandral’s. Good enough, he thinks. What he’s not sure about is the Guardians’s costumes — he gave Gamora free reign for those and they all look like weird leather elaborations of her own garments (and Nebula’s), but at this point he doubts that there’s any point in asking her if it’s her planet’s fashion, _Thanos_ ’s planet’s fashion, or what else. And even if it was the case, they have no time to deal with this — they’ll have to do.

No one else has anything to complain, so he tells them to go wear the costumes so they can at least rehearse Act Four, too. Thor grumbles something over how little it’d take him to get ready and Loki doesn’t even try to _not_ say what he immediately feels like telling him.

“Well,” Loki says, “I am _not_ complaining if you are the only one who gets to not wear much of anything.”

“ _Really_ ,” Thor says, and now he does sound like he used to back in the day for _one_ blessed moment. “I will have to remember it. I suppose I shouldn’t wear the fake eye, or should I?”

“Absolutely _not_ , at least _that_ would allow people to suspend their disbelief about how _repulsing_ your character should be.”

“My character is not,” Thor says, sounding almost angry on Caliban’s behalf.

“No one said that what the other characters think is right,” Loki agrees, and looks with longing down at his trousers and shirt. A simple model that commoners in Asgard would wear, and of course Ariel would _not_ wear extremely fancy clothing.

Still, he feels a pang of nostalgie he wishes he wouldn’t, and wonders, _am I really getting homesick_?

It’s not that he truly believes this entire farce will actually get them to leave Wakanda, but for the first time, he dares hope it actually might.

The fact that Shuri’s cameramen are around for the entire thing and most likely will stay around until they’re done because they have to put _snippets_ online isn’t helping either, but… whatever helps.

Whatever helps.

——

The night before the performance, which somehow has to be at _six in the morning_ because it was somehow the best time for most people in most places all over Midgard to watch it happening, they all get to the theater around four AM. Stark and Shuri get in charge of the _streaming_ handling cameramen and all, and Loki just watches it happen feeling like if he actually survived this and they gain something out of it, he’ll sleep for an entire month. Thor is thankfully going around the sets and not looking like he did when this whole affair started, Parker is taking _selfies_ with people and sending it to someone who Loki understands should be named Ned, probably a friend or _something_ , all the Guardians bar Gamora are somewhere backstage practicing their singing while being absolutely off-key, Strange has come out of some _ten_ portals to this point to bring people Avengers-themed ice cream but hasn’t given him _one_ single carton yet — Loki is starting to feel disrespected here, considering that he should be _in charge_.

He sighs, checking the sets again, telling Parker to _stop_ with his livestreaming since they have the _official_ one and consider asking Thor if he’s down for — locking themselves in a storage room or _something_ , but then Vision phases through the wall and Wanda Maximoff follows him from the door, at least _someone_ is using it, and they join him on stage. She’s wearing a fairly elegant burgundy dress while he’s — in a cape _with a suit_?

“I see you two took this seriously,” Loki tells them.

“We should host,” Vision says, “I wasn’t designed by two slouches.”

“Thank you!” Stark bellows from — wherever he’s perching on the ceiling as he checks behind one of the sets.

“Feel free to either help Strange with special effects or do some of your own,” he tells Maximoff, “at this point I have a feeling I’m not in charge of anything anymore.”

“Good thinking,” Strange says, appearing near him from _nothing_ and dumping a _Thor ice cream carton_ in his hands, along with a plastic spoon.

“What —”

“Wong seemed to think you would have liked this one best,” Strange winks. “Wanda, if you want to help me out later, feel free to join, I’ll be in the balcony above the stage.”

Then he disappears into another portal.

Loki stares down at the ice cream. The carton has Thor’s face all over it and apparently the taste is _vanilla, strawberry and raspberry_.

Whatever. He opens it and eats it — he will need food. It’s sickeningly sweet, but he doesn’t really care otherwise.

“Oh, how _cute_ ,” Shuri says, and then snaps a picture of him eating it.

“Wait —” Loki starts, figuring that it’s useless. By now —

“No,” Shuri says, “this is going on the play’s official account.”

“ _What_ official account?”

“ _All_ the official accounts,” she tells him. “I’m in charge of the Twitter one. Peter is on to the Facebook one and Heimdall of the Instagram one —”

“Heimdall is in charge of _what_?”

“He loved Instagram,” she shrugs. Loki would really like to know what in the Nine Realms is _Instagram_. “Also, _you_ got caught eating Thor’s ice cream, but Peter took a picture of Bucky eating Steve’s, and Heimdall one of Bruce eating Iron Man’s, so you have to play the part.”

“Did you set this up?”

“No, it was Strange’s idea, but we thought it was excellent. People are already liking it in spades, by the way. Just enjoy your ice cream, won’t you?”

Loki could throw it on the ground and have a dignified exit from all of this madness.

Instead he sighs, drops sitting down on one of the chairs in the parterre and finishes the damned entire carton.

Hopefully he won’t regret it when it’s time to go on stage.

 _Hopefully_.

——

By ten to six AM, the entire parterre is full, same as the balcony and the stalls. According to Shuri filming is ready to go, Vision — who’s looking human now — and Maximoff are standing on the side looking entirely too refined for this entire deal, everyone has their costumes on (Loki is just going to change his own with spells, it’s _really_ the easiest thing he has going for him right now), Rogers is holding on to Barnes’s hand like he’s going to faint, Barnes is looking _really_ good in that dress, if you ask Loki’s opinion, and Rogers peeks out of the curtain and then looks like he’s going to faint again.

“It’s _too many people_ ,” he groans.

“Man, you’re, like, the best after Thor and M’Baku,” Korg tells him a moment later, slapping his back. Good thing Rogers isn’t easily breakable, Loki figures.

“ _What_?”

“Well, Thor is just, _good_ , and M’Baku here is almost as good —”

“Thank you,” M’Baku says, “even if I he has it easy, he has to be _dramatic_.”

“— but you really put your heart in it, and that’s, well, more important.”

“Uhm,” Rogers says, “thank you, but I really am _not_ —”

“Rogers, just be _yourself_ and everyone is going to not have a single issue,” Loki interrupts him, his clothes shifting into a thin green linen shift before he conjures a couple manacles to appear around his wrists. “Very well,” he says, “it’s _almost_ time. We should go and let them introduce the whole thing. Stark, _what the hell_?”

Stark, who had been looming around but not really nearby, is taking pictures from beyond the curtain and uploading them _somewhere._

“I’m doing my civic duty, especially since then I have to man the social media. Damn, I could have eaten something, though,” he says.

A moment later, Strange appears from a portal next to him and drops a Hulk ice cream carton in his hands. “You’re welcome. Put that on Twitter, too,” he says, and then appears at the top of the balcony from where he’s supposed to do his part.

Stark looks at the carton, then shrugs. “Bruce, you’re _really_ lucky that yours is pistachio and hazelnut. Mine sucked in comparison.”

He takes a picture of himself with a spoon stuck in his mouth, full of ice cream, and then he puts the phone back in his pocket. “Right guys, I’m out monitoring the net. Good luck!”

Then he disappears backstage along with Heimdall, who says he will _keep him company_. Loki groans and shakes his head, trying not to stare at Thor’s naked chest — too many distractions, damn it.

“… We need to go,” he says, before this whole disaster can get even more bloody ridiculous. “Vision, Miss Maximoff, _please_ just do go out and give this whole thing a start. The sooner we’re done, the sooner we’re free, I hope.”

“Oh, I have a very good feeling about this,” Romanoff deadpans as she drags Wilson and Rhodes behind, her black armor fitting her like a glove.

Loki really, _really_ hopes they manage to last five acts without anything going wrong.

Or maybe the first three, until the intermission, would be enough for now.

He can hear Vision and Maximoff greeting their audience from the other side of the stage.

Fine. Here it goes.

——

For some _complete_ miracle, the first three acts actually go as well as they possibly could have — Wilson and Romanoff were barely trying but _enough_ to save their part, everyone else pulled their weight and given how much wood Rogers destroyed during Act Three, Loki is halfway sure that they will make enough wooden toys to give away for charity for an entire small country. Then again, the entire theater had about come down when he and Barnes finally locked lips on stage, and the whole farcical thing _is_ working, and Quill’s dumb songs are working if the point is making the audience crack up in laughter.

Loki doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or not that the only two times they _haven’t_ , were when Thor was reciting lines or when _he_ was shapeshifting on stage. Then again, he should just give up the idea that this production is anything close to _coherent_.

Act Three finishes without any further drama, good thing that, but the moment the curtain falls down and he takes a breath, _both_ Vision and Maximoff are in front of him, everyone else who was on stage _and_ Rogers and Barnes, who were lurking nearby.

With _microphones_.

“I am sure,” Maximoff asks Rogers while _Parker_ films, where did he get that camera, _who did he corrupt to get one_ , “that the entire audience is dying to know whether that thing you were doing with the wood was true or not.” She winks.

“Uh, it was,” Rogers nods, completely red in the face — he _does_ look good in Thor’s old clothes, or whatever resembles them, anyway.

“As true as your feelings for Mr. Barnes here?” She winks again. Rogers goes red in the face. Barnes, who is actually even wearing make-up — the Dora Milaje apparently insisted — glares at her, even if half-heartedly.

“What if they are?” He replies, half-smirking.

“How _cute_ ,” Maximoff goes on, and Loki wants to disappear somewhere else.

“Loki,” Vision floats in front of him, holding a microphone — he looks like his robot self now. “I see that it’s been an _exciting_ performance.”

“Maybe it has,” Loki says cautiously.

“So maybe you would like to answer a few questions from our Twitter feed?”

“… I suppose so?” He asks, not too sure if he should have accepted.

“Are the songs _your_ choice?”

… Why is the first question about the _songs_?

“No,” he says, “I have to give credit for that… _update_ to Mr. Quill. I think you can find him and his friends backstage as well.”

“We will make sure to ask. Hm, do you happen to _ship_ Captain Rogers and Mr. Barnes?”

… _What_.

“I do _not_ know what that means, I apologize —”

“He does,” Thor immediately says, moving up next to him. And now his naked, _sweaty_ chest is pressed against Loki’s arm.

He’s going to — do something _very_ stupid before this damned morning ends. “Actually,” Thor adds, “most of us in the Avengers did.”

Rogers hears it and almost sputters. Barnes makes a face belonging to a man who wishes he had never learned such terminology.

Loki thinks he might get along with Barnes more than he had ever imagined he could.

“If he says so,” Loki shrugs.

“The special effects are astounding, according to a fan from Paris. How did you achieve them in such a short time?”

Loki isn’t sure whether Strange wants the entire world to know that _he_ was behind the actual tempest that appeared on stage. “I have my secrets,” he shrugs. “But Mr. Stark builds very good sets,” he adds, trying to salvage it.

“According to James from Lincoln, Nebraska, or better, according to his grandmother, _no one who can put on this utter crack of a show is actually a danger to the United States of America_. What do you have to answer to it?”

Loki isn’t sure he ever wanted any of his plays to be described as _an utter crack of a show_.

“That… I am not a danger to the United States of America,” he settles on, wondering if turning into a snake and running out of here is an acceptable way of solving this situation.

He supposes not.

“And I think you should interview also some of my other actors,” Loki grins, pushing Vision in Banner’s direction. Given that it was _his_ idea, maybe he should shoulder some of this mess.

“All of our ancestors are watching us from Valhalla and are extremely disappointed,” Loki groans when he’s finally not _near_ them anymore.

“Oh, I think they aren’t,” Thor says.

He even sounds like he believes it.

Loki decides that for this time he’s just going to let him do it for the two of them.

If their ancestors in Valhalla don’t hate them, _maybe_ the next two acts won’t be a complete mess.

——

Act Four doesn’t start _too_ badly. Shuri and Rogers bicker back and forth, he comes on stage, says his part, leaves, and waits for _it._

“Look thou be true; do not give dalliance too much the rein: the strongest oaths are straw to the fire i' the blood: be more abstemious, or else, good night your vow!” Shuri reprimands Rogers, while Barnes shows up from the palace’s door. Rogers looks at him with a face that Loki honestly hopes was caught on camera because _no one_ would think this man a wanted fugitive after seeing it.

“I warrant you sir; the white cold virgin snow upon my heart, abates the ardour of my liver,” Rogers stutters, still flushing red, and _the entire damned theater_ breaks down in laughter.

Of course it does. Loki is fairly sure that there’s no white cold virgin snow upon _anyone’_ s heart, on this stage.

“Well,” Shuri nods. “Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary, Rather than want a spirit: appear and pertly! No tongue! all eyes! be silent.”

Loki _doesn’t_ do it, but rather waits for Strange and Maximoff to conjure a _large_ amount of silver and red sparks to distract the audience while Quill and his friends show up on stage.

As he has _completely_ gave up on having them learn the lines, he just lets them improvise — Quill blathers something about how true love always finds the day, Drax comments with something exceedingly literal every other word, the raccoon tells them to quit it and the tree just says _I Am Groot_ every other moment while Gamora keeps her mouth resolutely shut.

Apparently, it’s _very_ funny.

Then they start singing that _Turn, Turn, Turn!_ song. Quill and Gamora are about the only two who aren’t off-key.

Loki’s sure more than a few people in the arena are wheezing as Rogers and Barnes pretend to actually dance seriously with that background.

He needs to re-evaluate the both of them. They’re nowhere near as bad as they could have been.

“This is a most majestic vision, and harmoniously charmingly. May I be bold to think these spirits?” Roger asks, sounding perfectly polite.

The entire theater laughs, again.

“Spirits, which by mine art I have from their confines call'd to enact my present fancies,” Shuri says, sounding exceedingly proud of it. More laughter.

“Let me live here ever; so rare a wonder'd father and a wife makes this place Paradise.”

Loki will have it to give to Rogers. He sounds like he actually _means it_.

The fact that Shuri planted a flower crown on Barnes’s head isn’t making this any less bloody ridiculous.

——

For his last scene, he comes back out in the same green shift he had on in the beginning — he has shifted into at least three different animals and changed some five different outfits throughout this entire play and he doesn’t know if it gave it some dignity or not, but he won’t think on it _now_.

“Now does my project gather to a head: my charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time goes upright with his carriage. How's the day?” Shuri asks, and Loki tries to not think of how much he thinks Frigga _would_ have liked her.

“On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord, you said our work should cease,” Loki replies, crossing his arms.

“I did say so, when first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit, how fares the king and's followers?”

“Confined together in the same fashion as you gave in charge, just as you left them; all prisoners, sir, in the line-grove which weather-fends your cell; they cannot budge till your release. The king, his brother and yours, abide all three distracted and the remainder mourning over them, brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly him that you term'd, sir, 'The good old lord Gonzalo;’ his tears run down his beard, like winter's drops from eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works ‘em that if you now beheld them, your affections would become tender,” Loki shrugs, trying to sound like someone who’s satisfied with his own work rather than someone who just wants this to be _over_ , find Thor, drag him to a bed and not think about the falling out for the next month.

“Dost thou think so, spirit?”

“Mine would, sir, were I human,” he replies, softly, glancing at the stage, and he delivers it more wistful than he had thought he would, but he figures that if he wants people to believe that they shouldn’t fear any more from him, _well_.

It would work.

“And mine shall. hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling of their afflictions, and shall not myself, one of their kind, that relish all as sharply, passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art? Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick, yet with my nobler reason 'gaitist my fury do I take part: the rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent, the sole drift of my purpose doth extend not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel: my charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore, and they shall be themselves,” Shuri delivers.

“I'll fetch them, sir,” Loki bows, and thinks, _good thing I didn’t even think of playing Prospero myself_.

Good thing that he’s _not_ going to sing that bloody _If I Had a Hammer_ song later.

Quill can worry about it.

——

The rest goes _surprisingly well_.

Or better, M’Baku and Korg end up destroying a piece of set during the ending and Thor doesn’t break character for some kind of miracle, but by the time they had the clarifying conversation, Rogers and Barnes made out some more, Banner has his moment in the sun and everyone has their just retribution, only Shuri is left on stage, holding a staff that Loki conjured, same to — well. His Chitauri scepter.

He figures Midgardians will recognize it well enough.

“Now my charms are all o’erthrown,” Shuri starts, holding it in both of her arms in front of her, “And what strength I have's mine own, which is most faint: now, 'tis true, I must be here confined by you, or sent to Naples. Let me not, since I have my dukedom got and pardon'd the deceiver, dwell in this bare island by your spell; but release me from my bands with the help of your good hands.” She stops, takes a breath, looks at the stage as Loki turns into a crow and flies gently over her shoulder.

“Gentle breath of yours my sails must fill, or else my project fails, which was to please. Now I want spirits to enforce, art to enchant, and my ending is despair, unless I be relieved by prayer, which pierces so that it assaults mercy itself and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free.” He taps the staff with his beak before flying away.

It shatters as she moves her hands on her knees and bows while the stage becomes bathed in warm, golden light with bright red sparks.

Then the curtain falls down.

It’s _over_ , Loki thinks as he shifts back to his regular form, and as the audience claps and everyone else comes out on stage throwing out compliments and waiting for it to rise again, he decides that maybe, _maybe_ it was less of a disaster than he’d have thought.

When Thor’s hand slips inside his, he doesn’t even think of changing the status of things, and as they bow, he thinks, _even if it fails at least it wasn’t for naught._

Maybe he will have to thank Banner regardless of whether they get to leave or not.

Maybe, he really will.

——

After a full ten minutes of curtain call, Loki decides that it went fairly well, as far as the Wakandian audience was concerned. Well, they didn’t hate it, which is more than he had imagined.

What Loki doesn’t know if it went well _all over the rest of the planet_. Just after their curtain call, he immediately changes into his regular clothing and waits for the others to come out before heading backstage, where Stark and Heimdall are apparently getting cozy while monitoring social media, and that is _not_ making Loki feeling any less weird about this.

“So?” Banner asks. “How did it go?”

Loki doesn’t know if he likes the way Stark is smirking, but Heimdall is staring at his own computer with uttermost fascination.

“Bruce, my friend, I think your idea was the _best_ that has come out of your brain in a very long time, and you _know_ what I think of your brain — as in, _all the best_ ,” he grins.

“What, _seriously_?” Banner asks.

“Oh, absolutely,” Heimdall says, _smiling_. It’s unsettling, that’s what it is. “Stark has explained me how _Twitter_ works and I believe we are… trending?”

“Yep,” Stark replies. “World-wide trending topic, for that matter. Heimdall, you mind reading them some of the highlights while I check what our good old friend Facebook’s stats?”

“Of course.” He clears his throat. “Let’s see. _Oh my, that Caliban certainly has Big Dick Energy_!”

“… He has _what_ ,” Loki sputters as Thor breaks out laughing. That was not —

“I believe it’s Midgardian phrasing,” Heimdall goes on — the princess is about bent in two laughing, Rogers looks as baffled as Loki feels, Barnes looks done with everything, everyone else is trying not to laugh except for Quill. Quill is _absolutely_ finding it hilarious.

“So,” Heimdall scrolls. “ _Cap and Bucky are so sweet, why are we even banishing them_? Uh, this is tagged _Stucky_.”

“These are the _shipping_ people, I’m sure — wait, it is tagged _what_ ,” Barnes says. Loki can feel his pain.

“I think it’s, uh, both our names in one,” Rogers says, blushing red.

“Well, this tag of yours is also _trending_ ,” Heimdall smirks. Loki is positive that the bastard is having fun.

“Does it mean people want us to go back home at least?” Barnes groans.

“Most people on _that_ tag do,” Heimdall confirms. “Hm, Loki, according to this _critic_ Harold Bloom that I am informed is some kind of Midgardian authority, _this play was beyond any kind of criticism in good and bad sense but certainly couldn’t have been staged by someone dangerous or who didn’t actually know Shakespeare._ ”

“Please,” Banner says, “Bloom’s an asshole. He hates Stephen King and thinks he’s speaking the word of God, but if he saw it and says it’s not enough to ban you from this job forever, you’re some kind of genius.”

“Good to know,” Loki sighs, figuring that it can’t be bad news.

“Then, _WTF happened to Thor????? Why is his eye gone??? Why are we keeping him stuck in Wakanda_??”

“I’m flattered,” Thor grins, “can I answer?”

“Please,” Heimdall says, moving back and letting him type.

Loki _might_ really need a crash course on this whole _Twitter_ thing.

“So, then we had, _if that is how The Hulk is in real life I don’t understand how the US government wants him dead, hashtag justiceforbrucebanner_ ,” Heimdall goes on. Banner’s face goes bright red.

“Of course, _how didn’t we give the tree a citizenship already, too funny_ , then quite a lot of people seem to think that preventing Mr. Quill from re-entering the States infringes his birthright.”

“See?” Quill tells Gamora. “We should totally get married so you can get that green card, what did I tell you?”

“Peter, I don’t have documents,” Gamora sighs.

“I can make it so that you do,” Stark grins as he keeps on replying to people on… _Facebook_ or whatever it is.

“Guys,” Thor tells the other Guardians as he looks over Stark’s shoulder, “apparently you _all_ have this Big Dick Energy, other than me.”

“Well, of course _I_ do,” Drax says, and — oh, did he just imply —

Loki groans out loud, and damn, he’s _honestly_ not understanding Midgardian slang at all, but Thor is openly laughing at this point, and Rogers is red as a ripe tomato as Heimdall recites him a list of tweets most likely written by Midgardian fourteen year-olds about how gallant and beautiful and gentle he looks and honestly, _why is Cap a fugitive???!!!,_ while Barnes tells him that there’s no need, they’re all compliments, and then Heimdall reads a _tweet_ by someone saying that _people who can pull off that ridiculous bullshit without laughing on stage deserve citizenship from at least half of this entire planet_.

 _What_ —

“That’s — good?”

“It’s exactly the PR we needed,” Stark confirms.

“My Facebook feed is exploding,” Parker says. “I think I have what, five hundred new tags? Just because I showed up on stage at the end? _Seriously_? What, oh, _shit_ , why is my aunt asking me where I learned to sew that well?”

“Guys,” the princess says as she checks her tablet, “there are some one hundred online petition to give Quill’s friends honorary US citizenship. No, wait, one hundred and thirteen now. Should I sign all of them? Probably. Guys, people want you to be citizens!”

“Is it a good thing?” Drax asks.

“Yes, because otherwise we’re stuck here,” Quill says, “and I hope some of them include giving me my passport back, for that matter. So I can marry Gamora and we can get her that green card, at least.”

“Some of them say that _the green alien shouldn’t get it_ ,” the princess goes on, “but as you said, I suppose that if you marry her that’d work out great. Well, I think Dr. Banner’s idea _has_ paid off, hasn’t it?”

“Holy _shit_ ,” Barnes says as he checks his own phone. “Steve, check this out.”

Rogers leans over his shoulder, his eyes suddenly going wider before he claps his brother on the shoulder, _hard_ enough that even Thor is surprised for a moment. “Thor,” he says, “I think you guys hit the jackpot.”

“Excuse me?” Thor asks, his voice tentatively hopeful.

“We said that the petitions to get _them_ citizenship are one hundred and something already?”

“One hundred and eighty now.” The princess sounds delighted of it.

“Well, there are some five hundred, no, five and fifty, to find your people _someplace_ to stay, I think the Norwegian government _might_ be working on finding you guys an island or something, it’s rumors but it’s coming in very fast, and maybe a few other places might want to host you now.”

“ _What_?” Thor exclaims. “Seriously? Because of _this_?”

“Well,” Barnes says, “according to the Norwegian minister, _no people who can stage such a well-loved playwriter with such heart and ease can be enemies of the human race_ , or something. What I’d like to know is what they’re planning to do with _us_.”

“Oh, there are some sixty petitions for the two of you, right now,” the princess says. “No, scratch that, we’re past one hundred.”

“Do I want to know the terms?” Rogers asks.

“Maybe not,” she says, “but the most amusing one says that not letting you go back in the US for a proper wedding now that it’s legal would be a crime against decency. Hey, you know it’s legal _here_ , right?”

Barnes breaks into a relieved laugh. “Honestly, I’d rather do it here.”

“If they let us leave, we can totally think about it before we have to go back,” Rogers says, and at that point Loki decides to stop paying attention to them — _they_ won’t pay attention to anyone else for a long time.

He goes to stand behind Heimdall, at Thor’s side, and they both lean down to check the stats on his computer. The petitions to have Asgard rebuilt on Earth have surpassed the thousands in the last few minutes, T’Challa excuses himself the moment his comm starts blaring and says he will call them at the palace the moment they have more news, and as Heimdall opens the website of some American news channel in which people who had been watching their performance in Times Square are brightly smiling as they say they absolutely were convinced by such a show, and then others in London seem assured that _he_ has wholly understood Shakespeare’s spirit and would deserve the right to stay on Earth at least for _that_ even if he should be screened first. Well, the ones who aren’t obviously drunk say he should be screened, the ones who _are_ drunk are saying Loki should _absolutely_ do something named _Shakespeare in the Park_ and if he doesn’t get permission to go the US to do it, they’re willing to raise money on someplace named _gofundme_ so he can buy his way in.

It’s fair that they would want him to be screened, but the last part is so absurd he doesn’t even try to wrap his head around it. He doesn’t even notice that his hand found Thor’s until their fingers are threaded together, and thankfully no one either notices or pays no heed to it.

“I — I cannot believe that worked,” he says, shaking his head.

“I can,” Thor replies, and now he’s smiling as brightly as he used to back in the day, and as sunshine streams from the window Loki thinks that maybe his own prediction did come true after all.

“I should hope that you will continue this conversation where I cannot hear you, unless I choose to do so,” Heimdall says a moment later, and Loki doesn’t even stop himself from holding back the relieved laugh that had been building up in his throat for this long.

“We will,” Thor assures him. “And after we rebuild Asgard wherever they let us, I will make sure you don’t have to either hear or see anything.”

“That’s a relief,” Heimdall says, “but actually, I think I need to take a walk. Here, you can check _Twitter_ and the likes on your own.”

Loki doesn’t even know how to _start_ but Thor apparently does because he sits down, grins in a way that’s so familiar it aches, logs in on his supposed _official Twitter account_ that hasn’t been used in about two years and starts answering people with an ease Loki thinks he might never achieve, but then again, maybe they work better together like _this_ , the way they were supposed to.

“Does that mean,” he asks a while later, “that I should get one _Twitter_ account as well if I want to be _popular_?”

“Oh, you would love it,” Thor says sounding like he wholly means it, same as he had back in that hallway when he said _I chose you when I could not ask my father for his advice, nor thought I had one_ , and Loki decides that maybe _this_ isn’t how he thought the sun would shine on the both of them again but all things considered, he thinks he’s quite happy with the way things turned out.

He is, indeed.

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Link to the art will be hopefully up soon! :D


End file.
